


Year of the Tiger

by helico_pter



Series: A Cat Is Good Too [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Grand Prix Final, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Ice Skating, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mila is a good friend, Mild Sexual Content, Slash, Slow Burn, Swearing, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-23 15:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helico_pter/pseuds/helico_pter
Summary: There's a lot to be said about maybe/maybe-not long distance relationships and Yuri says it all with swear words. Almost a whole year's worth of wondering culminate in a few days in Canada that both turn out and don't turn out the way Yuri wants. And why does everyone think he has a crush on Viktor?





	1. The Long and Short of It

Yuri wakes up to an almost complete lack of light. At first there's no noise either, but then he hears people outside the door of his hotel room, talking indistinctly.

A faint glow marks the window and in that otherworldly light Yuri grasps his phone. The torch app reveals the room as it was when he went to sleep. He pulls on his boots and a hoodie on top of his pyjamas and goes to open his door. The corridor of full of people and their worried chatter, faces pale in the blue lambency of several held-up mobile phones.

"Power outage," is what everyone is saying. Everyone he can understand, anyway.

"What kind of a bullshit ci-" Yuri begins at no one in particular when Yakov appears from the darkness and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Zip it, Yuri," he says. "Is everyone okay?"

There's a chorus of hesitant answers from the Russian Olympic team as they gather around, skaters and otherwise. Others beyond them are forming their own groups to take stock as well.

"It's just a little bit of darkness. It's not even cold," Yakov tells them. It's comforting in a way, reminds them they've had worse thanks to Mother Russia. Not to be unpatriotic, but even Yuri remembers very cold and very dark nights from his childhood and he was born in the 2000s.

The clamour dies down a bit and people are returning to their rooms although hesitantly. There is a tug on Yuri's sleeve and he turns to see Otabek, who says nothing, but gestures for Yuri to follow with his hand. And Yuri follows.

By the elevators, now unoperational, is the stairwell. Otabek takes Yuri up the stairs. "What the fuck," Yuri mutters after they've climbed five floors in the light of their phones and Otabek offers no explanation. Even now Otabek only holds a finger to his lips in a bid to keep Yuri quiet. Yuri bites his teeth together to keep the words inside. It feels like they've left the ordinary behind, just the two of them alone in the endless stairwell, climbing.

At the end of the ascent is a door that's marked No Exit, at least as far as Yuri knows, it's in Korean, but Otabek pushes it open and Yuri realises the electronic locks must've gone out with the rest of the power. It's not cold outside, there's just a small wind, heady with the scent of new green. There's no lights anywhere which at first startles Yuri because he hadn't expected the whole city to have gone black, but he forgets it as soon as Otabek takes his face between his hands and tilts it up.

Yuri has never seen stars like that. It barely registers when Otabek lets go of him and joins him in staring up at the bejewelled sky.

"What... is that?" Yuri asks finally. There is a road of strange brightness, almost like a cloud, that flows across.

"The Milky Way," Otabek says.

"No, it... What?" Yuri lowers his eyes to look at Otabek. "You're fucking with me, Altin."

Otabek glances at him and smiles. "Pretty incredible, huh?"

Yuri nods slowly. "Yeah." He looks back up, spellbound.

A sound interrupts their stargazing. First a low clank and then an electric hum. The lights come on in a wave, district by district and the stars above disappear into the dark background. A shiver works up Yuri's spine as he looks over the newly lit city until an explosion of realisation hits his brain.

"Fuck!" he cries. "The door!"

But as soon as he gets to the door he finds it propped open. Behind him Otabek reaches out and pats him on the shoulder, then holds open the door for Yuri to go back in. This time the stairwell is lit with greenish fluorescent light that hurt Yuri's eyes coming in from the dark. He flips up the hood of his shirt and squints at Otabek, but his expression has gone back to the regular blankness.

Otabek walks Yuri right back to his door. The corridor is now lit as well and empty of the others there earlier. "Thanks," Yuri says when Otabek is leaving and his face changes ever so slightly as he nods and then walks off.

Yuri swears under his breath and staggers into his room. Afterwards he lies awake in his bed for a long time.

-

The following week with a fresh Olympic gold, but now separated by thousands of kilometres from Otabek, Yuri lies on the massage table of the skater team's physical therapist and facetimes him.

"It's been like that since," he says. He had stumbled ever so slightly during his free skate after the starry night because he hadn't slept very much. "It's not _bad_ ," he continues and immediately winces.

"Not bad," Otabek murmurs into Yuri's ears through his earbuds.

"It's fine," Yuri insists. Otabek sighs a bit and then immediately sits up when Yuri grimaces and curses in pain. He looks up at the physical therapist who apologises, but then continues prodding Yuri's ankle and calf.

"Fine," Otabek repeats Yuri again and looks so utterly disgusted with everything that Yuri grins at him.

"Hey, Altin," he starts just as the physical therapist begins to massage his calf with oiled-up hands. Yuri's grin becomes an open-mouthed groan and his eyes fall shut at the release following the pain of her ministrations.

"Yuri," he hears Otabek say in his ears but can't quite respond. There's a sudden edge to Otabek's voice that he can't place, either.

"Oh, fuck. Sorry," Yuri mumbles. "She's just doing this thing to my leg." He leans up a little to watch her work and she smiles apologetically at him.

"It should get better now," she says. "But you'll need to rest at least a week."

"Did you hear that?" Yuri demands, switching back to Otabek. "I need to take a week off!"

"Outrageous," Otabek agrees. He's sat up a little and his eyes are intense, which makes Yuri hesitate.

"I didn't think it was that bad," he says, but he can now feel the difference between having the pain and not having it any more. "What am I supposed to do a whole week if I can't skate?" Regardless of the fact that he's not even going to Worlds because it's too soon after the Olympics so he has little to no competition action all spring.

The physical therapist clicks her tongue. "Just try to keep from putting your whole weight on it," she advises. "No jumps landing on this foot." After the massage she wraps up the foot, using a long strip of tape up Yuri's calf to alleviate the stress of the muscles being in the wrong position.

Yuri wants to continue chatting with Otabek, but Otabek's attention has shifted and he keeps looking away from his phone, and soon after he begs off to do something else.

-

"Hey, _babushka_."

"I'm ignoring you because you called me grandma."

Yuri groans. "Ugh, _fine_. Let's go out."

Despite saying she's ignoring him, Mila looks at him. "Where?"

"Fuckin' anywhere," Yuri replies. He's restless and bored at the same time. It's been four days since he was told to rest his foot and he's dying in post-Olympic boredom. He's still at the rink every day, just out of habit, and today Mila has joined him. They're leaning on the rink boards, watching the junior singles practice. It brings weird memories to Yuri.

"Okay, then why?" Mila watches the juniors with her chin leaning on her hand. Honestly they both live at the rink even though Mila supposedly has a boyfriend somewhere outside it. And Yuri has a cat, and a weird platonic-not-platonic relationship with a Kazakh.

"There's gotta be a why?" Yuri groans. "Just 'cause I feel like it."

"Yeah, but I need to wash my hair so that's not a good enough reason."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Yuri glares at her but she's unaffected. "What reason do you want?"

She turns to him with a sly smile. "Just say you want my company and we'll go." But before Yuri can even sputter a no she laughs. "It's fine. Let's go. What are you feeling? Coffee?"

"Vodka," Yuri mutters with a scowl. "Coffee's okay."

"Grumpy baby," Mila calls him and laughs again. He flips her off and pulls up his hood. On the way out he checks his phone but there's no messages.

-

There's a coffee place near that they frequent. It's within an easy distance and has decent coffee. The dairy products are shit as usual so Yuri gets soy milk instead with his brew. It's not quite winter outside but it's also not quite yet spring even though it's mid-March, even with the Gulf Stream bringing warm water to the Gulf of Finland, on the shore of which St. Petersburg lies. It just means the water's warmer and magically the air is colder.

It's a wet, murky, fool's spring day and Yuri checks his phone again.

"So what is it?" Mila asks. "You're so wound up. More than normal. Is it because you can't skate? Or because you're not allowed to go to Worlds this year?"

Yuri shrugs. "I'm not wound up."

"You are. Come to yoga with me? Might loosen you up."

"Yoga? That's for-"

"Girls?" Mila raises her eyebrow.

"It's not a _sport_ ," Yuri says though he knows his argument is weak.

"Okay, then, _sportsman_ ," Mila retorts. "Is it because Viktor's coming back for the summer?"

Yuri shudders. "No. He is? I don't care. When? Didn't he just _leave_?"

"I don't know, May, I guess?" Mila plays with the ear of her cup while she studies Yuri. "Do you like him?"

The question makes Yuri's stomach twist and he avoids her eyes. "Who?"

"Do you like Viktor? _Like_ like? I always wondered."

"Keep wondering," Yuri grunts. He takes a drink of his coffee but doesn't even taste it. It's only something with which to occupy his mouth.

"It makes sense," Mila continues with her hypothesis. "That's why you went after him to Japan, that's why you hate Katsuki, that's why you did that thing with Altin biting off your glove. You were trying to make Viktor jealous."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Yuri scowls at her over his coffee cup to hide his uncomfort. None of what she's saying is right, or has the right cause connected to the right outcome.

"Ohoho, but you're not denying it." She does a theatrical cackle and leans towards Yuri over their little table.

Yuri copies her forward lean. "It's absolute bullshit," he snarls.

"Mhm, sure." She's annoying. "Or is it someone else? You keep looking at your phone. Is your boy Altin not calling enough?"

Yuri slams his phone on the table and says: "Fuck off!" The coffee shop swallows his voice with all of its clutter and Yuri is slightly surprised by that. He's used to his voice echoing a lot because he tends to raise it a lot while at the rink.

Mila smirks. "Hey, if you're not into that, I'll take a shot at him."

"You have a boyfriend!" Yuri protests. It takes him a second to come down from the high seas of automatic anger, but then it feels like the wind is completely stolen from his sails. "Fuck," he repeats and picks up his phone again. "Look at this."

He holds up his phone and the most recent picture on Otabek's Instagram. He's hugging a pretty dark girl around the waist and with their cheeks pressed together. They're both looking up at the phone which Otabek's holding up. At least he's not smiling.

Mila takes his phone and looks over the picture. She makes a disappointed smack with her lips. "Could be his sister." This time her voice is softer, as is the face she gives Yuri.

"Yeah, that's likely," Yuri snorts. He squirms a bit and drinks his tepid coffee. "He never said anything," he blurts out and then has to dab coffee off his chin.

"Hey," she says. "I never asked because it's not my business, but did you... Back in Barcelona, with him?"

"It's still not your business," Yuri says and slips his phone back into his hoodie pocket.

"Yeah, but you're upset he's got a girl in his picture," Mila continues. "So either you're jealous or you wanted to do something with him but never did. And now you've lost your chance."

"Barcelona was a long time ago. It doesn't mean shit any more," Yuri mutters and pulls up his hood. He looks out where people are walking against the wind, shoulders hunched.

"So you did do something."

"I didn't say that."

"So you didn't."

"...I didn't say that either."

"Okay, so something happened? Something more than your exhibition skate?"

Yuri avoids looking at her altogether. It isn't so much Barcelona—which wasn't that long ago, really—he's thinking about but the starry skies of PyeongChang. And all the messages and calls and pictures before and after. Maybe it's a distance thing. Maybe he doesn't fucking understand if Otabek is interested or not.

"Is he leading you on?" Mila asks and sits up. She has also finished her coffee.

Yuri just gives her a look.

"Okay, fine, but if he hurts you..." Mila makes a fist with her hand.

"You'll what?" Yuri challenges and gets up. "Forget I ever said anything."

"Hey, hey." She stands up as well and reaches over to tug on his sleeve. "I know you can handle it, but you're almost like my kid brother at this point, okay? Blame my maternal instincts."

"That's it, this conversation is officially fucking weird." Yuri pulls his sleeve free and leaves the coffee shop. He checks his phone in case he's missed anything, but that stupid photo of Otabek and the girl is still there.

-

When Yuri gets back to his practice routine he ends up messaging Otabek. Casually so because they're friends, right? Although Yuri has never had a friendship like this, not one where he feels this many different things. Otabek doesn't respond immediately, but when he does Yuri is at home, stretching idly.

 _'What's up?'_ reads Otabek's message.

 _'Viktor's coming back,'_ Yuri replies. It's a safe topic to talk about. Sort of.

_'Yeah? Doesn't he do that every year?'_

_'Yeah, twice. Summer and Christmas, like a gay natural disaster.'_

Yuri stares at the messages on his phone, trying to find a way to break away from the banality of them. He growls in frustration which startles his cat.

 _'Who's that girl?'_ he writes and deletes the words immediately.

 _'I saw your picture,'_ he tries again, but deletes again. Otabek isn't the most prolific poster on Insta, but there is more than one picture there.

 _'You never said you had a girlfr-'_ He doesn't even finish typing the word before he deletes it all.

 _'So he'll be there soon,'_ Otabek comments when Yuri manages to communicate nothing.

 _'Fukcing no shit,'_ Yuri typoes, fingers shaky with frustration. How did he manage to trap himself into a conversation about Viktor? He kicks his sofa which makes Potya jump up, having been loafing on the top of it.

"Sorry," he mumbles to his cat.

 _'You're back on ice?'_ At least Otabek has the good sense to change the subject.

 _'Yeah,'_ Yuri replies. _'Gonna need new music.'_ Music's a safe topic and an integral, if often difficult, part of what they do. _'I want to pick my own music this time,'_ he adds. He hasn't done that yet, except for non-scoring exhibitions.

 _'Anything specific?'_ Otabek is always happy to talk music.

_'Something with a pretty high BPM.'_

_'You sure? Doing that all season might be kinda tough.'_

_'So's doing another lame classical piece which sounds just like the one before!'_

_'Gotcha.'_

Yuri boils over. _'Gonna bring your girlfriend with you all season?'_ he writes then, and sends before thinking about it.

 _'No,_ ' Otabek replies immediately.

Yuri growls again. There's no elaboration from Otabek and he's not going to ask. No meaning not bringing his girlfriend or no meaning he doesn't have one? Who the fuck knows.

After a long pause Otabek writes: _'I've got to go now. Talk to you later.'_

Yuri slumps over himself on the floor where he'd been stretching and swears under his breath. He hopes the uncomfortable feeling in his gut is a pulled muscle or something and not related to Otabek. After a few minutes there's another notification on his phone, a snap from Otabek.

 _'But don't worry. I got you,'_ is the title with a selfie of him doing a thumbs up.

"Fuck!" Yuri yells and sends his phone sliding across the floor. A muffled thunk a bit later tells him it's ended up somewhere under the sofa. Potya is startled again, then slowly investigates.

-

The most exciting part of the spring—after the actual Olympic gold—is a photoshoot and interview with Russian Vogue. Yuri's done a fuckload of interviews ever since his senior debut win, all the way from local newspapers to weird sports fan blogs to national and international news outlets. He's hated almost all of them, but from all that he's gained new sponsorships which means he's gained more income.

The photoshoot is unreal. He poses with an actual Siberian tiger. It's huge. He's given a flower crown because it's spring and florals are in and he sits next to the tiger. He doesn't even care that they're playing up the whole idiotic "Russian Fairy" thing because of the tiger.

He forgets the cameras and wonders if he could ride the tiger out of the studio and then feed annoying people to it. In the end he gets to keep the clothes, but the tiger is taken back to its private owner. Yuri still manages to sneak a selfie of himself and the tiger.

Afterwards Yuri calls his grandfather in incoherent excitement. "Holy shit, you won't believe what I just did!"

"Yurochka?"

"I sat on a tiger! Well, next to it. It was huge! It yawned! The teeth were bigger than my hands!" He's breathless and bouncing on his feet while waiting for the metro. "It was so much _fun_! I'm sending you pictures!"

His grandfather is happy with him. "Your mother called me," he says when Yuri's excitement has died down a little.

"Oh fuck," is Yuri's automatic response. The nice spring day is immediately a little less nice. There's one of those people he could've fed to the tiger.

"She says she doesn't have your number so she missed your birthday."

"What the fuck?" Yuri's happiness leaves him like enamel peeling off and he realises that he'd actually been happy. Until now. "I haven't changed my number since the last three times she's 'lost it'! And my birthday was a month and a half ago!"

"I know," his grandfather says. "You don't have to talk to her."

Yuri exhales and leans on the window of the metro train. He cradles the phone closer. "I know, Granpa," he mutters. "But she's got my number. She just forgot my birthday. Again. I mean, it's no big deal, right? I just turned fucking 18. Won an Olympic gold. No big deal."

"And you posed with a tiger."

"That too."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, Granpa." Yuri is subdued. "I'll let you know soon when I can come visit, okay?"

He spends his short summer holidays on the outskirts of Moscow where his grandfather's house is. It used to be a working farm a long time ago. His grandfather still keeps chickens and Yuri can't believe his mother doesn't like it. She hardly ever visits. Or calls. Basically all Yuri knows of his mother is that she used to be somewhat famous and that they have the same hair.

After telling his grandfather goodbye Yuri posts his selfie. He's still wearing the flower crown in it and it's stupid but at least it makes him feel a little better. An actual tiger!

-

The next month finds Yuri going to yoga with Mila. It's an advanced class and most of the people are dancers or skaters or so Mila tells him. Most of them are also female and recognise Yuri when he walks in with a borrowed mat and wearing a tiger striped hoodie. Yuri doesn't know any of them.

It turns out the yoga poses aren't difficult, it's the calming down and breathing that Yuri struggles with. After the class Mila approaches him with another girl.

"Hey," she says. "This is Sofia. She wanted to say hi."

"Hi," Sofia pipes up. She has a long, dark plait over her shoulder.

Yuri nods at her and rolls up his mat. Then he sighs. "Look," he says and turns towards Sofia. "Do you want to get coffee or something?" Mila raises her eyebrows and tries to catch Yuri's eye, but he refuses to give her that.

"I'd love to!" Sofia says and beams at him. She has dimples and the build of a ballet dancer. And she's not taller than Yuri.

"Great," Yuri snaps and heads out. "See you at the door in five."

She's there before Yuri, still doing up her coat. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you walk into class today," she says and she's nervous, toying with the end of her braid.

"I couldn't believe it myself," Yuri mutters. He knows there's tea place around the corner so he starts towards it and Sofia follows a step behind.

"I saw the thing you did for Vogue," she says once she catches up. "Was the tiger real or photoshopped in?"

"Yeah," he says. "The tiger was real."

"That's amazing!" she enthuses and pulls out her phone. "I mean, you like cats, right? I've got two of my own."

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"They're just regular shorthairs." She tilts her phone to show him pictures of them and Yuri looks because cats.

They get tea and talk about cats for half an hour, both big and small, after which Yuri gets up to leave. She's nice enough, and quite pretty, but Yuri doesn't care. As he's saying goodbye she touches his arm.

"Can I ask one more thing? Could we take a picture together? My friends will never believe this otherwise," she says.

Yuri's first thought is to do it and let Otabek see it. "Weren't those your friends at the yoga class?" he asks, then shrugs. "Whatever. Yeah, sure," he agrees and poses with her. It makes her so happy it weirds him out and he leaves quickly afterwards.

He does eventually share the picture from Sofia's Instagram. He comments: _'I can't believe I tried yoga.'_ It takes only 15 minutes for Otabek to message him after that.

_'Wish I could've seen it.'_

Yuri tries not to read into that too much. _'Next time I go I'll tell you_ 😝 _,'_ he writes.

_'Did you like it?'_

_'It was okay.'_

' _I had an exciting day today, too. I got a haircut.'_

_'Wow. But let me see.'_

Otabek complies and snapchats himself, head turned a little to show the freshly shaven undercut, but with his eyes on the camera. The look is so intense Yuri has trouble moving on.

 _'Looks nice,'_ he replies about ten minutes later.

 _'Thanks,'_ Otabek messages, but then there's nothing more.

Yuri props his phone up against a pillow and looks at the picture of Otabek now and then while playing with his cat. At least until Potya knocks the phone over and Yuri drops his face against a sofa cushion. Potya keeps playing by herself, batting a toy around in Yuri's hair.

-

If there's one thing Yuri can count on in his life it's practice. It goes on no matter what, every day. Even days off he at least stretches and does some cardio. Maybe it isn't strictly necessary but Yuri can't stand days without movement.

Despite this there are still days when he's just off and after the fourth time Yakov calls him to the side to discuss his technical performance Yuri knows this is one of those days. So instead of torturing himself any longer, when the fifth time comes, he vaults over the fence.

"I quit!" he yells on his way to the locker room.

"Get back here right now, young man!" Yakov shouts after him. "This is unprofessional!"

"I don't care!"

"You are a professional! Act like it!"

"Too late!" Yuri cries and knows instantly it's true. He hasn't thrown a tantrum like this in years and almost immediately regrets it, but he's also unable to take it back.

"What's kicked the air out of your jumps today?" Mila asks when Yuri exits the locker room. "Heard you screaming."

"Fuck right off," Yuri snaps. "But tell coach I'll be back tomorrow," he adds in a mutter. Not that he thinks Yakov would take his declaration to quit seriously, but just in case.

On the way home he fires a message at Otabek, asking for him to call as soon as possible. He barely makes it inside his flat before his phone rings. Yuri falls on his sofa with phone in hand and with cat climbing onto his chest to purr.

"Beka," he says upon seeing Otabek's face.

"It's been a while since you've called me that."

Yuri knows exactly how long. "Fuck you," he say. "And also fuck off."

Otabek doesn't quite smile but his eyes have a sparkle. "What's up, Yura?"

"I... I'm... Ugh." Yuri scowls, unable to verbalise the situation.

"Skin too tight?"

"I don't know, I guess." It's actually a surprisingly apt description for how Yuri is feeling. "It's like," he tries again. "It's like I'm... missing something."

Otabek pauses and blinks. "Me?" he finally suggests.

Yuri snorts forcefully, half disbelief and about a 150 per cent chagrin. "You'd like that."

"Yeah, I would." Otabek nods.

Yuri lets his phone fall screen first onto his chest and rubs his face for a while. When he picks it up again Otabek is still there, arms crossed in front of him on a table and leaning his chin on them. There's movement in the background.

"Where are you?" Yuri asks. He doesn't recognise the room behind Otabek.

"Home," Otabek replies and looks over his shoulder. "That's my mother."

"Do you ever have bad days?" Yuri somehow doubts it. Otabek's always so calm.

"Oh, lots," Otabek says.

"I can't imagine," Yuri says because he can't.

"Are you bored?"

"No?" Yuri scowls.

"I don't mean now," Otabek explains. "With skating?"

"No!" Yuri repeats. "It's just that something's... missing," he repeats himself from earlier. "And I don't know what it is. I'm doing ballet, fucking yoga, strength training, conditioning, practising new choreography... I'm doing everything! Nothing's missing but it's not enough."

"What about school?" Otabek continues. "When were you last in school?"

"What? I don't know. When I was 15 or something." Yuri gestures impatiently which disturbs his cat. She gets up and stretches, blocking the camera for a moment. "And I don't want to go to school!" he adds when Potya hops away.

Otabek shrugs and almost smiles. "I saw the whole tiger thing finally."

The photoshoot had been so long ago Yuri had nearly forgotten. "Yeah? What'd you think?"

"You looked good." Otabek lifts his head and leans his cheek on his hand. "Tiger was really real?"

"Fuck yes." Yuri sits up, momentarily bolstered. "It was," he sighs, "great."

"Convincing."

"Get the fuck out," Yuri huffs.

"Miss you too," Otabek says. There's actually an expression on his face, not that Yuri knows what it means, but it makes him feel things. A lot of things.

"What the shit," he mutters and closes his eyes.

When he opens them again Otabek raises one eyebrow, or maybe he just tilts his head more to the side. "You okay there?"

Yuri isn't sure he can pin down the words for any of this. He groans and slumps against the arm of the sofa, letting his hair cover his face. "My new routines are shit and I don't know why. And everyone I want to spend time with is not here."

The silence stretches and Yuri starts doubting the wisdom of having said what he said. He blows his hair out of his face to see and faces Otabek's surprisingly eloquent worried face.

"Is," he starts. "Are you..." He blinks and Yuri realises Otabek's surprisingly also uncertain. Otabek picks up a pen and flips it around in his hand for a while. "I really do miss you," he finally says. "And I would be there if I could."

Yuri's first instinct is to bristle and he almost asks why Otabek thinks he's one of the people with who Yuri wants to spend time. But he doesn't. Because Otabek isn't wrong. "Do you know your placements yet?" he asks just in case Otabek has some sort of magic fucking future phone to tell him things that aren't known yet.

Otabek shakes his head. It's not like Yuri expected anything more. The Grand Prix series assignments are usually released some time in late June and that's still about a month away. There's some hope they might have at least one if not two common assignments.

Yuri sighs. "Hey, Beka."

"Yeah?"

"Fuck everything, right?"

"Right."

-

Yuri and Mila share a part of their on-ice time with each other. Yakov coaches them both and they attend the same level of competitions. They warm up before practice proper by skating around, sometimes separately, sometimes side by side. Sometimes challenging each other by trying to one-up each other. The kind of thing Yuri had once upon a time imagined he would do with Viktor.

"Hey, _baba_! You're like a brother to me!" Yuri calls out this time, from one end of the rink to the other where Mila is.

"Thanks! You're like a little sister to me!" she calls back and does a standing spin with both arms outstretched into middle fingers.

Yuri chortles and glides closer. "How's your boyfriend? Is he ok with your dick being bigger than his?"

Mila snorts in the most unladylike manner possible and they do a figure of eight around each other. "Yeah, he loves it," she says and smirks. "Does yours- Oh, wait, you don't have one. A dick _or_ a boyfriend!"

This time it's Yuri's turn with the middle fingers, except he does a little more challenging combination spin. "If it's a choice between someone like your boyfriend and none at all, I'm good with no one," he says when he gets up.

"Enough!" Yakov roars from the side and bangs on the rink boards with his fist. "Focus!"

"Yes, coach!" they chorus and give each other one final greeting with their middle fingers before skating apart again to practise something actually productive.

They break for lunch a few hours later.

"You haven't needed drinking company for a while," Mila comments while they're eating. They sit outside the so-called Sports Palace—a relic from Russia's Soviet past—because it's a nice early summer day and because Mila sometimes needs to see something else than the inside of the rink. To Yuri it's often a surprise there is anything outside the rink.

"Maybe I've been drinking with someone else," Yuri says after swallowing his bite of chicken sandwich.

"Ha ha," Mila says. "That's likely."

"Fine, do you wanna get a drink today?"

"No," Mila snorts. "I'm going out with Gonta."

"Who the fuck is that?"

"My boyfriend!"

Yuri rolls his eyes and has another bite. The drinks they've had together have all been coffee so far anyway.

"You haven't mentioned Altin in a while either," Mila continues, spearing a piece of beet from her salad. "How's that going?"

Yuri swallows. "Good," he says.

"And? That's all?"

"Yeah." Yuri wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and turns to look at her. He's not about to roll on any of the recent developments in his relationship with Otabek. He doesn't even know what they are yet.

"Well, that's disappointing," she says. "Did you ever find out who the girl was?"

"Nope."

Mila eyes him. "I just figured something might've happened. You've seemed happier for a while."

"I have?" Yuri picks some lettuce from his teeth.

"Definitely. Way less complaining than usual."

"Hilarious."

"No, but I'm serious." Mila elbows him and then waves her plastic fork in his face. "I think you should be happy. You deserve to be and if Altin's what's making you happy then I'm all about that."

"Okay. Thanks," Yuri says. He can tell she means it and that actually warms him up.

"Anyway, how would you like to come on a double date with me and Gonta?"

And so much for the warmth. "Who am I gonna bring to a double date? My hand?"

"Maybe Sofia? She hasn't shut up about you."

"Is that why you were asking what's up with Otabek?"

"No, no. God, you're paranoid," Mila says. "I was just thinking you might wanna do something else than skating or thinking about skating for one night."

"Why do you think a double date with anyone would be a thing I want to do instead of skating, you lunatic?"

"Oh? Oh, maybe because I'm your only friend and I want the best for you and think you need something new and fun in your life?" She turns to face him and holds up the fork in a threatening manner.

Yuri pushes her fork away. "Fine!" he snaps although going out does sound a little fun. Maybe not the company he'd choose if the choice was his but it'd do.

"There we go." Mila smirks and picks up her bottle of water to tap it against Yuri's sandwich. Yuri shoves her away.

-

The last day of June is also Yuri's last day for the season. He wakes up at 6am like every morning and snapchats his bedhead to Otabek with the caption _'felt cute, might delete later'_. He's off to Moscow the following day to spend his precious few weeks of holiday with his grandfather. After practice Yuri takes another picture of his sweaty, dishevelled self, posing with a victory sign and the same caption.

On his way home he gets a snap from Otabek, his hair damp and sticking up. His pose is a little less exaggerated, but he's added the same caption. Yuri snorts and nearly laughs out loud which gets him a few weird looks on the metro. He doesn't care.

When Yuri gets home he scoops up his cat who protests and wiggles around. After kissing her in greeting he manages to take a picture of them both. Most of his face is covered by cat tail, but he sends it to Otabek anyway. The caption goes without saying. Then he plays with Potya until there's a reply. Otabek has staged a similar situation with a teddy bear and Yuri shows it to his cat who promptly ignores it.

Because Yuri needs a shower he sends the next picture from the bathroom with his hair shaped into horns with shampoo. The reply is Otabek with a foam beard and an intense frown. It makes Yuri laugh again and launch his phone across the bathroom with his slippery hands. He resigns to a cracked screen and to finding a nice case for the phone as soon as possible.

Yuri's next picture features his dinner, a whole egg on his fork. Potya sits at his elbow so she also gets in the photo. It takes a little longer for Otabek's response to come this time so Yuri is on the sofa watching Netflix. The foam beard is gone and there's no other props. Otabek's hair is damp again but clearly clean and swept to the side. He's shirtless. In just sweatpants.

"Fuck," Yuri says to himself. "Look at this bullshit," he tells Potya and shows her the picture. She licks his fingers and sniffs at the phone.

The tone of whatever the fuck was going on between them had shifted in the last month, ever since Yuri's bad day. He hasn't been able to quantify the shift in any way except that there'd been a lot more shirtless selfies. And a lot more facetiming while also shirtless. More semi-nudity in general. It is like a cartoon bandage for the fact they hadn't received any of the same assignments for the upcoming season.

So Yuri responds with another selfie, lying down on the sofa and holding up the phone. It takes a few tries to get one where his hair's looking decent and by some sort of unnatural serendipity the best picture is one where his shirt's also riding up thanks to him stretching his arm up as far as possible.

He hits send and waits. He checks his phone and then waits a bit more, trying to concentrate on whatever he was watching. He shifts around on the sofa, uses the drawstring of his pyjama pants to play with Potya and then checks his phone. But when Otabek's next snap arrives the situation in it is so different that Yuri is taken aback.

It's a big, brightly lit dining room with Otabek on the front, holding up his phone to catch everyone at the table. Yuri counts six people. Holy shit, Otabek has three sisters? The caption says _'family dinner, everyone says hi'_ and all of them are giving Yuri a wave, caught still in the photo.

Just a few seconds after having received the snap Yuri also receives a facetime request from Otabek. He accepts and watches Otabek move from the brighter room to a darker one.

"Hey," Otabek says, almost whispering.

"Did you show the snap I sent to your family?" Yuri asks immediately. It had definitely not been meant to be viewed publicly.

"No." Otabek makes a little shake of his head. "Just told them I was talking with you and they all wanted to say hello."

"Why would they want to say hello to me?" Yuri asks, sharpish. He's still reeling from the—to him—sudden change of topic and mood.

"Because I've often mentioned you to them," Otabek says as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. Yuri can't imagine wanting to mention Otabek to any of his family, which is no fault of Otabek's but rather Yuri's family members. Excluding his grandfather, of course.

"Well, uh, thanks?" Yuri says sourly.

"It's not why I called." Otabek glances over his phone, probably into the other room, before looking at Yuri again. Almost as intense as the shirtless photo. "I just wanted to tell you you look like a snack and I'm so sorry I'm not there with you right now because I really, really want to be." He speaks faster than normal and glances away again. "Bye," he adds then, before Yuri manages to form any words.

Then Yuri is left alone on his sofa again, staring at the blank screen of his phone. Potya leaps up and pushes against his hand. "What the fuck just happened?" Yuri says and pets her distractedly.

-

"Hey. Hey, Beka, are you watching?"

"Yeah, what-"

Yuri flips the camera on his phone and aims it at his big toe, then catapults the toe nail barely hanging on off with a flick of his fingers. "Bam!"

He flips the camera again and waits for reaction. Otabek continues chewing on his cereal. "Seen worse," he says.

"Aww, what?" Yuri grumbles.

"You can't gross me out," Otabek states and has another spoonful.

Yuri murmurs in disappointment and stretches out on the grassy backyard of his grandfather's house. It's sweltering hot and even the chickens in the coop at the far end of the yard are quiet and enjoying the shade.

"Well, thanks for nothing then," he says and adjusts his sunglasses.

"Yurochka!" his grandfather calls out from the house. "Come help with the _kompot_!"

"Okay!" he calls back, then looks at Otabek again. "Gotta go. See you later?"

Otabek nods and waves and Yuri detects a hint of disappointment. It makes him happy to see just how much Otabek doesn't want him to go.

-

Yuri's summer holiday is short, sharp and hot. Then it's suddenly the start of the busy fall season and smaller national competitions where he gets to try out his new routines and get feedback on them before taking those routines to international events. But he struggles on presentation. His technical scores are always high because perfecting technique is easier than perfecting emotion.

"This is bullshit," he complains to Otabek when he has the time. "All of this," he continues. His complaint is two-fold.

"Yeah, it's not ideal," Otabek responds with similar frustration.

"I mean," Yuri blurts out. "How did this happen? How the fuck can we not have a single fucking matching competition until the GPF?" He is looking down the barrel of a very busy and very company-free autumn.

They're both careful not to add any conditionals about attending the final because that would push their future meeting date past Christmas. The odds are they'll both make it, right?

"It doesn't help that I'm back in the USA," Otabek sighs.

"No, it fucking doesn't!" Yuri confirms. It's probably the reason, actually. It's easier to attend competitions near training grounds. For Yuri that means not straying too far from Europe.

The silence stretches between them until discontentment.

"Can you get a new choreography?" Otabek asks just when Yuri is about to slam down the cover of his laptop and end the call.

"No," Yuri mutters and leans his chin on his arms. He's lying down on the floor in front of his sofa with the laptop in front of him. "I'd have to find someone else to do it while I'm competing with what I have now and then I'd have to find the time to practise the new one after it's done."

Otabek murmurs a general agreement. He knows the deal. It's a risky move to switch routines when the season's already started. "Hey, Yura," he says then.

The shift in his voice is enough for Yuri to look up again. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see your face."

"Oh, fuck off," Yuri exhales the words, not displeased in the slightest.

"That's the spirit."

Yuri snorts, but it's a snort of laughter which he tries to hide by tilting his face down again. It's a brief burst of relief, like a soap bubble, and it breaks under pressure.

-

Yuri gives up to the idea of a double date a little bit later. He'd technically agreed before and Mila gently reminds him of that, but it's not the reason why he actually ends up going. He's busy and a bit unhappy, and Otabek posts a picture of himself and the girl from before at an inopportune time.

It's not that Yuri thinks Otabek has anything going on with her—he probably doesn't—but it still annoys Yuri and his immediate reaction is to do something stupid. And a double date is just that.

They go see a film, which is fine because at least there's no talking during that, and then head out to eat. It's the first time Yuri meets Mila's boyfriend. Sofia seems already familiar with him although he's clearly not a dancer or a skater or a hockey player. Instead he's a teacher or maybe a student of pedagogy. Whatever, Yuri honestly does not bother to find out which it is.

Eating works for Yuri as well. Every time there's a lull in the conversation he eats or drinks some more so his mouth is full and he doesn't have to say anything, but that leads to another problem. Every time Gonta opens his mouth, which is constantly, Yuri ends up rolling his eyes, even when Mila kicks him under the table. Eventually Gonta catches him doing it, too.

"Hey, you got a problem with me?" he asks.

Yuri swallows his mouthful of water. "Yeah, actually. Why don't you shut the fuck up, _Gonta_?" His name is actually Gontarev, with only Mila using the more familiar short version.

Gonta puts his fork down and glares at Yuri. "Why don't you cool it with the attitude, kid?"

"Who the fuck you calling a kid?" Yuri puts his glass down so hard the water sloshes on the table.

"Okay." Mila leans forward. "Gonta, I'm sorry." Then she turns to Yuri. "You shut the fuck up," she hisses. "We're in public and you're acting like a nuclear disaster grade ass!"

It's a side of Mila Yuri doesn't see often, the angry at him -side, and it takes him by surprise. "What?"

"Apologise!"

Yuri looks around the table, at Gonta's intellectual smug face and Sofia's round shock—she's been holding up the same forkful for minutes. Mila on the other hand his furious and leaning towards Yuri with a scowl.

"No!" he responds, then points at Gonta. "He started it!"

Gonta opens his mouth to say something but Mila holds up her hand. "Yuri," she says. "Apologise or leave."

Yuri stares until he realises no one's on his side. Gonta is leaning back in his chair and has his arms crossed, Sofia has put down her fork, but is looking down and fiddling with her napkin. Yuri gets up, clattering his chair back.

"Fine," he says. "I'm leaving." He pauses for half a second because surely Mila isn't that angry with him over such a little thing. But she points at the door, blue eyes hard and lips flat over her teeth.

Yuri leaves, mostly put off and weirded out by Mila's reaction but not offended. That's the sort of language he always uses, why is it a big deal this time?

He tries asking Mila the next day but she refuses to talk to him.

"What did you do?" Yakov asks in passing and Yuri shrugs. "Fix it, whatever it is," Yakov continues and gives him a stern look.

"Maybe it's not my fault!" Yuri argues, screeching to a stop by the rink boards and glaring across to the other side where Mila is.

Yakov looks up from the folder of Yuri's routine elements. There's been some adjustments since the first competitions of the season to make the program flow together better and be more appealing to judges. "Fix it," he repeats. "Neither of you needs the distraction."

It still takes a few days before Yuri comes down badly from a jump and realises Mila isn't there to golf clap his performance. He looks across the ice to see her concentrating on her step sequence.

"Hey, Babicheva!" he shouts. "I'm sorry, okay!" The volume of his voice goes around the rink and makes everyone look up. There's always people on the sides, coaches, other skaters waiting or warming up. Discretion is for less frustrated people.

At least it finally catches Mila's attention and she turns sharply and meets Yuri mid-ice. "Hey, dickface," she responds, not as loudly.

"What did I _do_?" They circle each other, Mila forcing Yuri to skate backwards.

She grimaces and gets closer threateningly. "I tried to do something nice for you," she says. "And I wanted you to meet Gonta because I really like him." Yuri opens his mouth but she reaches over and pokes him in the chest, hard. "No, shut up. You acted like such a _brat_."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, not knowing what else to say.

"Great. Apologise to Gonta, then talk to me." Mila breaks, showering Yuri with ice shavings and goes in the other direction.

Yuri stops and glares after her. "How can I get in touch with him if you're not talking to me!" he yells after her.

"Figure it out!" she replies.

It isn't an instant fix even after Yuri forces himself to do it. The easiness between them does not return immediately but takes almost a full month to gain back. It's excruciatingly slow and frustrating. He knows he's back in when Mila grabs him one day to go to a costume fitting and teases him about Otabek.

-

Although time passes slower than ever the arrival of December still surprises Yuri. It was just October, no, it was just _summer_ and now it's already December. _Finally_ December.

"Yep, he's still hot."

Yuri turns his phone over immediately after those words and whips his head up to glare at Mila. "Fuck off."

"I can't, we're in a plane for the next fifteen hours or something and my seat's right next to yours," she replies and reaches for Yuri's phone. "Haven't seen those pictures on his Insta."

"You follow him?" Yuri still pulls the phone away from her grabby hands.

"Who doesn't? Let me repeat, he's hot."

Yuri scowls and agrees and then hands his phone to her. "We just send selfies to each other sometimes."

"Selfies like these? Sometimes? I can see the timestamps for _every day_." She side-eyes Yuri while scrolling slowly through the pictures. "He's so into you. Am I going to see any nudity?"

"No!" Yuri's voice is louder than he intends. "No," he repeats in a hiss. "And stop swiping!"

"Pity," she smirks and hands over the phone again. "When did you last see him?"

"Like, last February," Yuri replies slowly, having to actually take a second and think about how long it's been. In his opinion the lack of nudity has been fucking torture and not just a _pity_.

"Shit, not since the Olympics?" Mila grimaces. "That's a long time. He wasn't even at any of the same events as you?"

"Nope." Yuri makes a face.

"Looking forward to seeing him again?"

"Stupid question," Yuri declares and gives her a disgusted look. Besides, he's seen Otabek plenty, it's the element of actual physical touch he's waiting for.

"I don't think I could date another figure skater," Mila admits. "Too much drama."

"Otabek's not drama," Yuri defends although they aren't dating, not really. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"Oh, I think you are sadly mistaken," Mila chortles. "You think he's not drama? Please. Being quiet and mysterious doesn't exclude him from being dramatic. He saved you with a motorbike in Barcelona, didn't he? Where did he even get the bike?"

Yuri wants to argue but Mila is right. "Viktor's worse," he can only mutter.

"Wrong again!" Mila grins at him. "Viktor acts out for attention."

"That doesn't mean dramatic?" Yuri scowls.

"On the surface it looks the same." Mila shrugs. "But I don't think he knew how else to look for human contact. I mean, just look at him now, with Katsuki. Different man. They're kindred spirits."

"What the fuck," Yuri complains. He squirms in his seat. The conversation was bad to begin with and even worse now.

"Gonta's studying psychology," Mila sighs. "It's really interesting stuff. And a lot of it makes me look at people differently." She gives Yuri a look, smiling faintly. "You know, you and Viktor-"

"No!" Yuri snaps and pushes his hand against her face. "Are you learning psychology through osmosis? Is knowledge an STD? Is that what's going on?"

Their seats rattle. "Yuri!" Yakov objects from the seat behind theirs. "And Mila, you too. Behave like the adults you are and converse appropriately."

"Yes, coach," they say in unison and flip each other off. Yakov may be able to hear them, but at least he can't see them. It doesn't occur to Yuri until much later that it meant Yakov had heard them discussing Otabek.


	2. Wallpaper This

Canada in December isn't much different from Russia in December. It is a vast generalisation but that is how much Yuri pays attention to it. It's cold, it's dark, it's all the same. Airports are the same, hotels are the same, competitions are the same. It's the smaller things that are different. Programs aren't the same, performing isn't the same, scores aren't the same, competitors aren't the same. Audiences, by and large, are the same. Mostly it's the noise they make.

In the lobby of their unremarkable hotel, while Yakov deals with checking them in, Yuri stands in the middle and looks around. He recognises a lot of the people filtering by and some greet him. JJ goes by with finger guns and a woman Yuri has seen before, but Yuri simply turns away because he has never been so disgusted in his life.

A few words of Russian catch his ear and he looks, only to see a group of clearly junior level skaters with their parents and/or coaches. He doesn't know who any of them are so they must be from some other rink; there's plenty of rinks in Russia to come from. They still seem to know who he is so he turns away again, making sure his hood is up and hiding his hair.

He scans the floor, the ceiling, the walls and the decorative potted plants, but none of it is interesting, and when he turns around again towards the reception desk he spots Mila talking with Otabek. Yuri's feet act before his brain catches up and he's already halfway over to them when he realises he's moving.

"Hey," he says when he reaches them. His voice comes out breathless and weird.

"Speak of the devil," Mila says.

"Hey," Otabek replies. He looks relaxed, hands in the pockets of his coat. Not at all like he'd been on a 15+ hour flight from Kazakhstan. Yuri feels immediately grubby and like he must smell like other people's air.

"Okay, talk to you later," Mila says and gives a little wave. She bumps into Yuri on purpose as she turns and walks over to Yakov.

"Bad flight?" Otabek asks after a measure of silence. Or as silent as it can be in a busy hotel lobby.

"No, why?" Yuri flips his hair out of his eyes so he can actually see Otabek with more than just one eye.

"She only said you were unhappy." Otabek nods towards Mila.

"Oh, fuck off," Yuri snaps automatically. "Not you, her. The flight was fine. Long and boring." He's too busy glaring after her so Otabek brings him back with a light tap to his shoulder.

"Hey, Yura," Otabek says almost too softly to hear over the din and there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Good to see you."

All the semi-revealing selfies from Otabek flash through Yuri's mind when he looks at that intense-eyed sharp face. "You too," he breathes. "Come to my room," he adds in the next breath regardless of the fact he doesn't know where his room is or have the key for it.

Otabek's whole face twitches which Yuri only sees because he's watching closely, but then Otabek shakes his head and glances to the side. "I can't. Team meeting."

"What?" Yuri scowls. "Since when are you part of a team?"

"Since my coach has about 20 students, five of which are here." Otabek gestures to a group not far from them and Yuri even vaguely recognises a few people.

"Ugh," he growls.

"I'll find you later," Otabek says and quickly touches a strand of Yuri's hair before walking away.

Yuri remains in place, staring after him until a hand lands on his shoulder. "Yuri. Your key," Yakov says. "You registered in the competition before we left, didn't you? The deadline is today."

"I did," Yuri mutters.

"Good. Go up to your room and rest up. Dinner at 6:30pm in the hotel restaurant."

"Whatever," Yuri grumbles and takes his key. Otabek waves at him as he leaves with his group and Yuri follows him with his eyes.

"Rest." Yakov squeezes his shoulder and turns him towards the elevators. "Mila, you too."

"Got it," she says and takes Yuri's other arm. "We're going. You know, coach, you should rest too."

"We're all resting," Yakov agrees. "Proper rest is important. Right, Yuri?"

"Oh my God," Yuri mutters as he's taken to the elevators by the two of them. So he'd missed out on a little bit of sleep in a competition _once_. He'd still won, even at the cost of his ankle. So what if that particular competition had just happened to be the Olympics. He tries to spot Otabek one last time over his shoulder but he's long gone.

They have neighbouring rooms on the third floor and after Mila disappears into her room, Yakov stops Yuri at the door to his.

"I need to know your concentration is where it needs to be," he says.

"What do you mean?" Yuri eyes the old man with some unease.

"It's the Grand Prix final," Yakov continues. He doesn't quite look Yuri in the eye.

"Yeah, so?" Yuri plays with the keycard in his hands. "I know it is. I'm all concentration."

"I hope so." Yakov's words seem very fateful. "I know you like that Altin boy and I'm afraid he's distracting you."

Yuri freezes on the spot. This is definitely not something he wants to talk about with his coach, even if his coach is the closest thing to a father figure he has close by. Not that he'd ever talk about this with his grandfather either, especially with Russia's not so progressive views on same sex relationships.

"No," he says and it comes out choked. He shares an uncomfortable look with Yakov and figures they're both thinking of the same thing: Viktor. Yuri swallows and gets his door open.

"All right. Good." Yakov clears his throat. "Just so we're on the same page."

Yuri gets into his room and closes his door without saying a word more. The next second he's messaging Mila furiously. He hasn't even checked what the hotel's wifi password is. And fuck the roaming charges. _'What'd you tell Yakov???'_

 _'Calm your tits,'_ Mila replies almost instantly. _'What are you talking about?'_

_'Why's he telling me Otabek is a distraction???'_

_'I didn't tell him anything. He's got eyes, doesn't he? It's pretty obvious when you two get together what's going on. And I think he heard us on the plane.'_

_'But nothing's going on!'_ And Yuri can't tell if he's feeling frustrated or righteous about that right now.

_'Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm taking a shower and a nap now. Bye bye!'_

And despite the 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 Yuri sends her way Mila stays quiet after that.

-

The three of them have a frosty dinner where they go over their timetables for the competition. There are, of course, other skaters from Russia too, but with different coaches. Yakov reminds them about the time difference and that they need to adjust to Vancouver time to be at their best. It's all familiar to Yuri who has been competing abroad for years so he spends his time glaring at Mila. She makes faces at him behind Yakov's back. When he retires to bed, being old and all, Yuri grabs her arm in the lobby.

"Why're you talking about my business to everybody? First Otabek, now Yakov?"

"First of all, let go." She bends his arm until he has to let go of her. "Second of all, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Otabek kept asking about my 'bad flight'. What'd you tell him?" Yuri growls. "And then Yakov starts talking about Otabek distracting me and getting all teary-eyed over Viktor."

"Oh my God." Mila rolls her eyes. "Paranoid much? I just told Altin the flight was long and you were restless. And I never said anything to Yakov about anything. He's a smart old man, he probably figured it out all on his own. Anyone with eyes could when they see you with Altin. And I fucking doubt he got _teary-eyed_ over Viktor." She pauses, her righteous anger changing to thoughtfulness. "But you know, he's got a point. Can't blame him for being wary about you dumping your career for a boy, too. You and Viktor are pretty alike."

"Except at least Viktor's a man while Plisetsky here is a little girl," JJ's voice cuts in as he elbows into their conversation. He claps his hand around Yuri's shoulders and grins. "Right?"

"Fuck off and retire already. You couldn't even beat an actual little girl anymore." Yuri pulls away immediately, shoving JJ away.

JJ laughs and winks at Mila, then continues on his way to the elevators. Yuri has to admit to himself that the lobby is a bad place for private conversations. But he's not going to share an elevator with JJ so he goes the opposite way, stomping towards the hotel exit. Mila calls after him but he doesn't care. He just needs fresh air and to stretch his legs. Too much sitting and laying down and breathing other people's air.

He manages two running steps out on the wet pavement, darting between some passers-by when he hears a familiar voice.

"Hey," Otabek says from behind him. "That offer to come up to your room still open?"

Yuri whirls around. "No!" he says emphatically.

Otabek raises his eyebrows slightly, leaning back a bit as though he's about turn away. "All right."

"Ugh, no. I didn't mean that," Yuri corrects himself and runs his hand through his hair to grab at the edge of his hood at the back of his neck and pull it up. "I just need some air first."

"Oh. Do you want company?" Otabek's shoulders come down in relaxation.

"Yeah, come on." Yuri turns again to continue in the random direction he'd chosen. "Just saw JJ. Again. What is he even doing here? I thought he was Canadian. Why does he need to stay in a hotel?"

"I think he's from Quebec. It's on the other side of the continent." Otabek catches up to Yuri. Yuri has a vague memory that Otabek and JJ used to be rinkmates.

"Whatever," he declares with a flap of his hand, disgusted with the whole subject. He huffs and puffs, making clouds of steam pour out of his mouth and nose because it's colder now with the sun having set. "How was _your_ flight?" he asks pointedly.

"Pretty short," Otabek replies without any hint of irritation.

"What? How?" Yuri glances up at him.

"I came from Detroit, remember?"

Yuri frowns. "Ah, right," he says slowly. "I forgot you were training there again."

"I was thinking I might move here when I quit."

"What?" Yuri repeats. "Move where? Why? What do you mean quit?"

Otabek eyes him up and down, then takes Yuri's hand. "I'm going to quit eventually and I like the United States. Canada too."

"But it's so far!" Yuri objects.

"Far from what?"

"From me! From... From Russia," he adds quickly. "Why the fuck are we doing this?" he says then, to distract both of them, and lifts up the hand Otabek is holding.

"You don't like it?" Otabek asks. "I thought you might want to have your hand held."

"Why would I want that?" Yuri argues but doesn't let go of Otabek's hand and instead walks closer to him.

"No reason." Otabek doesn't let go either and Yuri steals a glance up at him. Even the light from the lamp posts is complimenting him, contouring his sharp cheekbones and accenting the darkness of his eyes.

"Ah, fuck," Yuri says under his breath which causes Otabek to look at him. "This is fine." Yuri squeezes his hand. No one knows them here. It's okay. It's not Russia.

They head down a small park pathway with only a few lights. There's some snow on the ground which makes it less dark and the sky is low and pink with city lights reflecting off the clouds. Yuri wants to run but doesn't, it's uneven ground, slippery and dark, he doesn't need another twisted ankle.

"Oh shit," he says and pulls out his phone. "Gotta tell Granpa I'm fine. C'mere." He pulls Otabek under a lamp post and then reaches up with his phone to get them both in a picture. "He likes you for some reason," he mutters while he sends the snap to his grandfather, trying to explain why Otabek gets to be in the selfie with him.

"Oh, really?" Otabek's face is blank. "Must run in the family."

"What?" Yuri frowns at him until he catches on. "Hey. Fuck you. What's that supposed to mean?"

"You like me too." Otabek shrugs a little, completely unapologetic and serious. "So it must run in the family."

"I never said I like you," Yuri protests, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"I know," Otabek replies. "It's just a guess."

"Good fucking guess." This time it's Yuri who takes Otabek's hand and turns them back towards the hotel. He's decided he's had enough fresh air. "What are you gonna do if you quit? Coach? Join some lame Disney On Ice thing?"

"I thought I'd go back to school."

"What? Why?"

"To study music, maybe."

"You can do that in St. Petersburg."

There's a pause in the conversation.

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

Yuri clenches his jaw. "It's better than you moving to America," he grumbles. At least Kazakhstan is almost close by. Close enough for Yuri to fool himself that he could visit any time. If he had the actual time.

"Your cat might have questions to ask."

"Are you afraid of my fucking cat now?"

There's another pause. A longer one. Yuri keeps looking at Otabek from the corner of his eye, unhappy about how uncertain he feels and sounds. And maybe he shouldn't give so much of himself away.

"I didn't know you liked me _that_ much," Otabek finally admits. He looks uncertain too. Or maybe bored. Yuri can't always tell with his stupid Kazakh poker face. His heart jolts in his chest and his stomach is beset by moths, but he snarls anyway.

"I'm letting you hold my hand!" he says.

Otabek looks at him, then their hands. "Good point." He smiles, quick and crooked.

-

They no longer hold hands when they get back to the hotel. Otabek still follows Yuri up to the third floor where his room is, but Yuri stops right out the lift. Both the corridor and his prospects about bringing Otabek to his room are bleak.

"Where's your room?" he asks.

"A floor down," Otabek replies. "Why?"

Yuri groans a little. "Can we go there?"

"It's not a single room. I'm sharing," Otabek says then and Yuri can actually feel his face fall.

"Oh." He scowls towards the corridor, then looks at Otabek. Even in the unflattering light of the hotel corridor his eyes are dark and liquid and his cheekbones are sharp. So it isn't just a trick of the high-contrast dark and light of a winter night. Fucking unfair.

"What is it?" Otabek asks and touches Yuri's chin. He moves closer.

"We can't go to my room, either. Yakov's got the one next to it and he doesn't..." Yuri makes a face. "He doesn't want me to stay up late," he finishes a bit lamely. He doesn't want to get into a whole discussion about what Yakov had said before.

"You shouldn't stay up late," Otabek agrees. "But jetlag might make it hard to sleep."

Yuri rubs his face and tugs his hood deeper over his head. "This is all st-" he starts and is interrupted by Otabek grabbing both sides of his hood and kissing him.

It's a great fucking kiss.

"Fuck!" Yuri says when they separate. Otabek is still holding onto his hood.

"Fuck yes or fuck no?" Otabek asks. The way he speaks and the fact he swears lets Yuri know this is a big deal.

"Fuck yes!" Yuri's voice is more shrill this time.

The words are barely out of his mouth when Otabek yanks him forward into another kiss. There's all these bulky clothes in the way. The zipper of Yuri's hoodie is digging into his throat and he feels it just as acutely as he feels Otabek's lips and tongue and teeth. He can't get his hands under Otabek's coat so he hangs onto the sleeves while Otabek clasps his face instead of his hood.

The sound of the lift doors opening sends them staggering away from each other. A woman in a long coat steps out and looks at them weirdly, but then continues down the hall, giving them one last glance before she goes into her room.

"If you don't want anyone else to see us, I'm going to go now," Otabek says. He runs his hand through his hair and takes a somewhat shaky breath, looking away.

"Yep," Yuri manages, gently trembling. His face is on fire, and to be honest, it's not the only part of him feeling like that.

Otabek eyes him up and down. "See you online," he says then and goes to press the lift button. He moves like an automaton, eyes on Yuri.

Yuri just nods and feels for his phone in his pocket. He backs away slowly, watching Otabek go into the lift and give him a little wave before the doors close and he's gone. After that Yuri sprints into his room, throwing his coat and boots off once inside and dives into his bed.

About two minutes later there's a new snap for him to view. It's a picture of Otabek holding a finger up to his lips in the universal gesture of silence. The room behind him is dark. Yuri sends one back, except the finger he's holding up is the middle one.

 _'How the fuck am I gonna sleep now?'_ says his caption.

 _'_ 🍆 ✊ 💦 _'_ , says Otabek's next snap with a picture of himself in the bathroom, shirtless, leaning towards the camera with a small smile. Yuri's skin tingles and tightens with mounting frustration. It's a little bit unbelievable he's in the same hotel as Otabek—again—and not able to go see him. What's more it's fucking stupid.

He still takes the suggestion.

-

The next morning Yuri is bleary and jet-lagged. From the looks of it Mila hasn't fared much better, but for some reason Yakov is unaffected. The hotel breakfast is a noisy thing and the restaurant is mostly full of skaters. And a few bewildered other people. Yuri could swear he's been in this hotel before. That or he's seen so many of them they are beginning to blur into one giant abstract idea of a hotel in his brain.

Despite lack of sleep Mila is still cheerful while Yuri buries his head in his arms, hidden under his hood. He only yanks his head up when he hears Otabek's voice nearby and turns to look. He's breakfasting with his rinkmates from Detroit.

Mila nudges him. "Hey, wanna go say hi to them?"

Yuri groans and Yakov looks up from his notes. Yuri isn't even sure why Yakov's bothered to come over himself. Not like Yuri and Mila are some first timers, or need a legal guardian. He could've just sent an assistant coach.

"Suit yourself, I'm gonna go," she says and gets up. She pauses again to give Yuri another chance but he slumps his head back against his arms.

It's not that he doesn't want to go but he just doesn't want to do it in front of Yakov. He shifts so only his forehead is against the table and he can hold his phone in his lap and type on it. He sends a 🤢 to Otabek.

 _'Sleep well?'_ Otabek asks through a DM.

 _'Fuck no,'_ Yuri responds immediately.

 _'I did, I had a good night.'_ Otabek's reply makes Yuri's face heat up. Then he's nudged again by Mila's elbow.

"Look," she hisses. "Recognise her?"

Yuri lifts up his head and tries to not be obvious while looking where Mila is gesturing with her head and eyes. At first he looks at Otabek because he's at that table, then realises what he's seeing. It's the girl from the pictures. The one who'd been hugging Otabek, now sitting right next to him and having breakfast with him.

"What the fuck," he whispers.

"Mhm." Mila sits back down. "Thought you might."

"Are you two done?" Yakov booms. "And language. You're representing Russia." He looks at both of them sternly. "Yuri, you have three hours until you have on-ice practice. Mila, you have four. I'll see Yuri for lunch in two hours and Mila in three. I want you to do an equipment check and make sure your skates are sharpened. Warm up and stretch before on-ice. I will debrief you together after Mila is done."

"We know what to do, old man." Yuri can't help but be a little crouchy, which earns him an even sterner squint from his coach. "It's not our first time on the fucking magic bus."

He only sees Mila turn away to hide her grin before Yakov stands up and looms over him. "Language, Yuri," he says in a low, disapproving voice. "You may not care about representing Russia, but you're also representing _me_. Be on your best behaviour."

As Yakov leaves the restaurant Yuri looks back and sees Otabek watching their table. Otabek waves a little and then his attention is back on the girl sitting next to him. He doesn't smile or emote when listening to her, but he's listening nonetheless. Yuri's face feels hot again but for a completely different reason.

"Wanna talk about it?" Mila asks, leaning back in her chair, arms behind her head.

Yuri flips his tiger-striped phone around in his hands a few times, re-reads Otabek's last message, then looks up at Mila. "Nah," he says. "I'm good."

"Mopey baby," Mila says, half amused, half empathetic. "I'm gonna go talk to them, then."

"What." Yuri frowns at her.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't mention you. I just want to find out who everyone is, you know me." She winks and gets up.

Yuri gets up too, but heads out of the restaurant. There's a strangely large group of young women hanging out in the lobby, looking around, and it takes a little while before Yuri realises they're fans of some sort. It makes him speed to the lifts and head up immediately. Just in case they were there for him, it wouldn't be the first time.

He hops into his unmade bed once he's back in his room and checks his social media. He's got a few hours to kill before getting to work. He sends another selfie to his grandfather although there's still no reply to the first one. It's normal. His grandfather doesn't always remember to check all the accounts Yuri has set him up with. At least there's an Instagram post from his cat sitter with a few pictures of Potya playing. And then a bunch of Grand Prix posts from other skaters.

 _'Busy?'_ he DMs Otabek.

 _'Yeah, sorry,'_ he replies.

 _'Me too,'_ Yuri types and sighs.

It takes him a long time to simply make sure his costume is fine and that his skates are good to go because his mind dwells on the previous night. And the girl sitting next to Otabek. She means nothing and yet is the personification of every doubt and worry Yuri has.

-

"Coach!"

The cheerful greeting can't be mistaken.

"Vitya." Yakov turns to Viktor who is waving and beaming.

Yuri glances between the two of them, then continues making sure his skates are laced up properly. The amount of competitors at the Grand Prix is generally small so the singles groups aren't divided further into sub-groups for on-ice practice. There's only six competitors for the men's singles event plus host picks.

"We meet again as competing coaches." Viktor approaches them, still with that ridiculous smile. As though he is genuinely happy to see Yakov. Which, Yuri has to admit, is probably true.

"Vitya," Yakov repeats, but with a little warning tone.

"Yes, all right, I'll drop it." Viktor's good mood can be dampened. "Hello, Yuri! It's good to see you too."

"Get lost," Yuri replies. Not his best but he's not in the mood. He spots Katsuki looking in their direction by the rink board and waving at him.

Viktor chuckles. "Is that any way to speak to your future coach, kitten?"

This time Yuri whips his head around so fast his braid snaps in the air. "What the fuck?"

"That's a discussion for later," Yakov steps in and puts a hand on Yuri's shoulder. But clearly it's not news to him.

"Is it? It looks like you've already discussed it!" Yuri's voice rises a little bit too much.

"Yes," Yakov says with emphasis and squeezes Yuri's shoulder.

Viktor takes a look between them. "I'll leave you to it," he says and backs off. Katsuki waves again, then takes to the ice.

"What the fuck does he mean?" Yuri turns to Yakov. He has sudden goosebumps all over his body which have nothing to do with the temperature at the rink.

Yakov sighs and rubs his face. "I have to retire eventually."

"So he's just gonna come in and be the next coach?" The alarm he feels surprises even him, making him catch his breath, even though he knows he's the one who chooses his own coach.

"No, of course not." Yakov gives Yuri a sharp look. "Is this the time to argue or go practise your transitions? You've been slacking off. You're too eager to get to the next jump. Now go."

Yuri shuts up but shoots Viktor a glare. Viktor doesn't notice, he's just leaning on the rink wall and watches Katsuki with a dreamy smile. Yuri scowls and hits the ice hard enough to make his teeth clack together. The others are already out there. Otabek nods at him in passing, JJ tries to high-five him, Seung-gil makes no eye contact and then Yuri ignores everyone and puts his earbuds in.

He does a few rounds around the rink to get a feel for the ice, then starts slowly incorporating elements from his program, small jumps, shallow spins. He progresses all the way to triple-double combination jumps before he spots Yakov and Viktor speaking by the rink wall and loses his concentration. The double toe loop turns into a disaster and sends him into an unrecoverable stagger. He can't remember the last time he's actually fallen down on ice.

When Yuri gets up everyone's eyes are on him, including all the coaches. He clenches his teeth and lifts his chin. This is not the time to get unnerved. Otabek skates by and raise his eyebrows slightly to which Yuri responds with a shake of his head. Yakov waves him over to the side.

"What was that?" Yakov asks as soon as Yuri is close enough.

"Nothing," Yuri mutters.

Yakov isn't convinced. "Yuri," he says, leaning closer. Viktor is still nearby but not in earshot, especially with the sounds of several people on the ice. "Are you... Is your concentration where it should be?"

Yuri grimaces. "Yes," he says. Yakov's eyes flick up towards the centre of the ice and Yuri knows immediately who he's looking at. And it's the wrong person, anyway. "I just lost my balance. Unfamiliar ice."

"I see." Yakov nods and clears his throat. "If you're unhurt you can continue."

Yuri takes off back to the ice as soon as he can. Katsuki's gone over to the side to chat with Viktor and they both glance at him. Emil skates by asking if he's okay and Yuri doesn't even bother responding. Of course he's not okay. All of this is pretty fucking far from okay.

-

Yuri stays at the rink through Mila's practice as well. He's got nowhere else to go and no desire to move. He sits on a bench for most of the time and stares at his feet. Even his leopard print trainers don't bring him any cheer. The notification sound on his phone keeps going off but he doesn't even look.

He's fallen before, lots of times. He's failed before, over and over again. It doesn't matter. His balance was off, that's all. The ice is unfamiliar. Maybe he hadn't warmed up properly. Maybe his ankle is still not the same as before. It'd been a slight injury but stress accumulates on the joints with all the jumping.

Yuri rolls both of his ankles, one at a time, feeling for a difference, but he can't find any. They feel like his ankles. There's no snags, no cracking, no inconsistencies between them.

The ladies' singles practice is the last lot of the day before the competition begins with some ceremony and a bunch of junior categories. Team Russia stays for a bit, but then they head back to the hotel to debrief and rest. The debriefing session is tense and uncomfortable, and Yuri can't bring himself to communicate beyond single syllables. Not even when Mila stays behind to prompt him.

"Ah, so that's how it is," she sighs. She's still in her training clothes, just with the team jacket on top. "You won't even talk to your best friend."

"Since when are you my best friend?" Yuri sulks.

"Aha!" she crows. "Made you say more than one word."

"Oh my God," Yuri mutters. "Get a life, Baba Yaga."

Mila snorts and smacks Yuri on the shoulder. "Thanks. I've always wanted to learn to fly around in a mortar."

Yuri makes a face. "Baba Yaga's a monster."

"Is she? I think she's a great role model for any modern woman." Mila loops her arm around Yuri's shoulders and pulls him in into a part hug, part chokehold. "Chin up."

She's still taller than Yuri and he struggles a bit. "Get off. You smell."

"Not before you tell me what's going on? You look like you've seen the actual Baba Yaga."

They struggle about a little longer in the corridor outside Yakov's room but she's strong and Yuri can't shake her. At least not without actually trying to hurt her. "How's being held hostage gonna make me tell you anything?"

"Hmm." Mila pretends to think. "Well, for one, you won't get to perform on time if I keep holding you. We're both going to have to switch to pair dancing because we'll be joined together forever. Gonna be very awkward for you and Altin."

"Fuck off!" Yuri tries to fight her off again, but she doesn't let go.

"No, seriously," Mila says, only a bit of the effort of holding on showing through her voice. "I'm going to have to do all the lifts."

Yuri slumps and lets out a long, defeated—and annoyed—sigh. "Oh my God," he says again. "Viktor wants to coach me."

Mila lets go immediately and smooths down her hair. "What's wrong with that? You could probably learn a lot from him. Like some manners and cheer."

Yuri rolls his eyes but doesn't argue this time.

"Let's go get coffee or something," Mila suggests then.

"Vodka," Yuri mutters because it's the joke.

"Yeah, I think the legal drinking age in Canada is a bit different from our dear Mother Russia," Mila snorts. She takes Yuri's arm and steers him towards the hotel lobby. "And it's not like you need vodka to be an absolute joy to be around."

"No, I just need it to be able to stand you," Yuri responds.

Mila laughs. It attracts a lot of looks from people around them, but Mila either doesn't care or thrives on it. "Come on," she says. "We'll get a drink of _something_."

-

There's still time for a brief rest before eating and returning to the rink to warm up before the men's singles event. Yuri lies on the bed and puts his feet up against the wall when he's back in his room. His phone's been silent for a long time now, but he digs it out of his hoodie pocket and checks the messages from earlier. All Otabek, worried and questioning.

Yuri turns his phone around in his hands for a bit, then facetimes Otabek.

"Hey," Otabek greets him. He's walking, there's noise behind him, but no sky, just walls. Is he still at the rink? Never left maybe.

"Hey," Yuri replies.

There's some scuffling and Otabek puts his phone down for a moment. When he pulls it up again he's stopped moving and it's a bit more quiet around him. "Hey, Yura," he repeats, but in a different tone of voice that makes Yuri's face tingle.

"Did you see me today?" Yuri asks although he knows the answer.

"Yeah," Otabek says. There's no judgement, only a little bit of concern.

Yuri hesitates because he's not sure he wants to talk about the reason why it happened. He doesn't even know why he's so affected by Viktor's presence. He should be glad for this chance to have him as a coach. Isn't that what he wanted before?

"It won't happen again," Yuri finally says.

Otabek tilts his head a bit. "Okay."

"That's all," Yuri declares.

"Okay," Otabek repeats. "Glad you called. I was-" There's some commotion behind Otabek and he shifts, bringing the phone around with himself.

"Worried?" Yuri guesses.

"Hoping to spend some time with you," Otabek says instead.

"Oh." Yuri feels stupid. He blames Viktor for everything. And then himself. He's let Viktor of all people come between him and spending time with Otabek. "You at the rink?" he asks. Maybe if he goes there now there's still a chance.

"Yeah," Otabek replies. There's some more noise so he gets up and moves around again. Yuri can see people around him as he does so. "Junior pairs are almost done," he says.

"Shit." Yuri rolls off his bed. "I'll be there soon." The men's singles event isn't next, but it's the one after that so he should be at the rink anyway.

Yakov's dead wrong on what has the capability of distracting him. There's nothing Yuri would voluntarily let come between him and competing. It's the involuntary issues that have him coming and going. It's not like he chooses to feel the way he does about Viktor. Right?

-

The sports centre is possibly even busier when Yuri gets back there than it had been when he'd left earlier. He gets spotted because he's careless and doesn't have his hood up and is wearing his Russia jacket going in. There's a bit of a cheer from several girls as Yuri takes one look and speeds inside the rink and through the lobby into the competitors only side.

There's a few people hanging around and chatting right in the secondary lobby area and Yuri spots JJ leaning against a wall before he spots Otabek next to him. It always startles him to realise Otabek isn't that tall, and then it annoys him to realise he's even shorter than Otabek.

JJ happens to look up just then and grins and waves him over. "Look who's here," he says.

"Yeah, I brought you this all the way from Russia." Yuri holds up his middle finger at him. Otabek says nothing but pushes himself off the wall where he'd been leaning, hands in the pockets of his tracksuit bottoms.

"Oh, you gotta stop this, Yuri, baby." JJ is delighted. "You're so obsessed with me it's embarrassing. I'm a married man!"

Yuri makes a gagging noise and brushes past them. He hears JJ laugh and say something before Otabek catches up to him. "Why are you friends with that fuckface?" he asks.

"He's not bad." Otabek shrugs as they thread through the corridors. "I think he just likes you."

"Ugh." Yuri retches again. "Isn't he married to a _woman_?"

"Not like that," Otabek corrects him gently. He pulls Yuri to the side as a bigger group of technicians pass them by, carrying AV equipment. There's a cheer from the rink proper, audible through the open doors and stairwells. Someone in the junior division is doing well.

"I fucking hope so," Yuri declares, then notices Otabek's arm is still around him. "Hey," he says.

Otabek tightens his hold for a second, then lets go.

"Not what I meant," Yuri says, but they're not alone.

"Beks!" A female voice rises to greet them. A short distance off a young woman is waving at them and Yuri knows instantly who she is. Otabek raises a hand to wave back.

She's wearing a Team USA tracksuit but her accent's not American. She has a round face with slightly slanted dark eyes, similar to Otabek. She comes over, smiling. "Hello there," she says in Russian.

"Yuri." Otabek gestures at him, then at her. "Alina."

Yuri finally has a name for the face. "Hi," responds although not with any warmth.

"Beks has told me so much about you," she says.

"Never mentioned you." Yuri's voice is flat.

"Aww." She purses her lips and gives Otabek a sad shake of her head. Then she shrugs. "That's just as well, I'm not the wallpaper on his phone, either."

Otabek sighs and rubs a hand over his face and then through his hair. "We've been rinkmates for a while. I helped her practise a few times while her partner was sick. She's a pairs skater."

"The fuck?" Yuri mutters, ignoring everything Otabek is saying. His attention is on Alina. "Who's the wallpaper on his phone, then?" he asks, curious and wanting confirmation for his suddenly leaping heart.

"You are," she replies and grins a little. She crosses her arms and cants her body in a challenging manner in front of Otabek. "Payback's a bitch, right, Beks?"

"Payback for what?" Yuri asks despite himself. This is way more interesting than he'd expected.

"I'll let him explain," she says. "It was nice meeting you, Yuri. Finally." She eyes Otabek up and down and then pushes past them, her ponytail swinging.

Yuri watches her go, then snorts a laugh inspired by relief. "Beks?" he asks.

"I prefer Beka."

Yuri doesn't know if that's Otabek's attempt at placating him or the actual truth. It doesn't matter. "What the fuck was that?"

Otabek continues down the corridor. His gait looks exasperated even if his face remains impassive. "I accidentally let her partner know she was into him," he says when Yuri catches up to him.

"Okay?" Yuri side-eyes Otabek. "So she paid back by letting me know you're into me?"

"I guess so."

Yuri holds out his hand. "I want to see the wallpaper."

Otabek says nothing but takes out his phone and unlocks it to show Yuri. The wallpaper—home screen, not lock screen—is one of the Vogue photos, a dreamy pastel one of Yuri resting his head against the tiger's cheek.

"You nerd," Yuri says with a huff to cover up his delight, but a smile creeps up on his face anyway as Otabek pockets his phone.

"It's a nice picture," Otabek defends himself in a calm voice. He doesn't exactly seem embarrassed or affected by her payback scheme.

"Sure," Yuri snorts.

"Yeah, it's my favourite of you that's safe for others to see."

Yuri goes from zero to sixty and a little hiss escapes from between his lips like from a can of compressed air. "Fuck you," he wheezes although now he's curious to see which non-safe pictures of him are at the top of Otabek's list.

"Oh, look, it's time," Otabek says and looks at his empty wrist. "Do you need a snack before warm-up?"

Yuri turns and leaves, heading towards the locker rooms. How the fuck did Otabek turn his moment of embarrassment into one for Yuri instead? He glares at Otabek as they rattle down a stairwell, but it's not so much annoyance he feels but spine-tingling thirst. And Otabek knows it, sees it and probably senses the waves coming off Yuri. He gives Yuri a thumbs up before they separate to get ready.

And for the sake of the competition Yuri pushes back his problems. The fall earlier had been his fault, not Viktor's. He'd lacked focus. This current thing is entirely Otabek's fault, but at least it's energising.

When he assures Yakov of being ready he means it.

"I'm here, I'm fine," he says before shutting out all the noise with his earbuds. He intentionally turns his back to Otabek while warming up because seeing that whole thing is not conducive to his concentration.

The warm up is finished with a brief round on the ice with everyone else taking part in the men's singles. JJ seems to think the whole crowd is there for him since the competition's taking place in Vancouver. Admittedly he does get the biggest cheers.

Then it's just waiting. It always feel longer than it really is. Yakov stays near but there's nothing to say now. All the talking comes afterwards.

The order for the short program has been determined by random draw and Yuri is second to last. He doesn't mind that. Seeing everyone else go first amps him up; he has a lot to live up to. The one right before Yuri is one of the host picks and actually younger than Yuri. He's absolutely shaken when he gets off the ice and Yuri can almost relate. His first GP final had been pretty tense, too.

Then it's his turn.

But when he gets on the ice he can tell it's not right. He moves and performs as practised but he can't remember what the story is. Why this music? What is he trying to say?

He doesn't fail or fall. He doesn't stumble or hesitate. He does everything right, the exact way he's supposed to, but it's not clicking.

He's dazed afterwards, holding an armful of flowers on the kiss-and-cry while his scores come in. They're good, they're always good, but they're not as good as before. He keeps replaying his performance in his head, trying to find the fault. Where did it go wrong? And _what_ went wrong? Is it the choreography or him? Both?

Yakov squeezes his shoulder and then pats him on the head once they're away from the cameras. "It was good," Yakov grumbles.

Yuri says nothing. It hadn't felt good.

He stays afterwards for the ladies' singles event because Mila is competing and Yakov is staying anyway as her coach. Otabek is gone with his team but Viktor and Katsuki come by to say hello. Both of them beam at Yuri and he must admit that at least Viktor did find someone as ridiculous as himself. Except Katsuki's just plain nicer. And he kind of levels out Viktor's over-confidence with his absolute gormlessness. Both annoying, but together somehow less so.

"You did very well, Yuri," Katsuki says in very broken and accented Russian. One look at Viktor confirms he thinks it's utterly adorable. Yuri scowls, but even he can tell there's no malice behind it.

"Go f-" he starts, then rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Thanks."

Viktor tries to pat his shoulder but Yuri shies away. Viktor drops his hand and smiles. "We're doing lunch tomorrow."

"The fuck we are." Yuri frowns at him.

"Already set it up with coach." Viktor shrugs, unapologetic.

"Ugh, fine," Yuri agrees then and notices the two of them sharing a glance. "What?"

"You're being so nice." Katsuki reverts back to English which is just as accented. "I mean, not that you aren't nice but you don't _act_ nice very often."

This time Viktor puts his hand on the small of Katsuki's back. Yuri realises that this really is no longer the Viktor he knew growing up. He isn't so distant and his expression has changed. Yuri wonders if that's because he's no longer lonely like Mila had said.

"Don't anger the kitten," Viktor whispers. It seems Katsuki understands Russian just fine. Then Viktor looks at Yuri and smiles. "Or, I shouldn't call you a kitten anymore, should I?"

"You should've never called me a kitten in the first place," Yuri points out, but he can't get too annoyed about it. His mind is preoccupied.

There's a TV in the corner of the waiting area showing the live feed from the ladies' singles and his eyes flick to it now and then. Mila hasn't been on yet.

"But you were so cute," Viktor says.

"Fucking please," Yuri mutters. He crosses his arms on the table and leans his chin on them.

"See you tomorrow," Viktor continues, unphased. He nudges Katsuki and they leave.

Soon after it's Mila's turn on the ice and Yuri sits up to watch. She doesn't seem to have any trouble with her routine and gets out of it with great points. Not as good as Yuri's but honestly not that far off, either. If she keeps it up she's going to go up in the ISU rankings this year. Yuri has to admit she deserves it.

When they get back to the hotel it's too late at night for anything else than exhausted goodnights. Yuri falls asleep in the middle of typing a message to Otabek.


	3. Canada, Cold and Happiness

Yuri wakes up to a long email from his grandfather. News of his neighbours, the painkillers he has to take for his back, making black bread and piroshki. Ordinary grandfather things. There's even a hazy picture of his chickens, hazy both because the focus is off and because the of the overcast weather. A deep wave of homesickness rolls over Yuri and he writes a long response, unloading all of his skating-related uncertainties because he knows his grandfather's love for him is not dependent on his success as a skater.

After washing off the last of yesterday Yuri makes it to breakfast. He only gets to say a quick hello to Otabek before they go their separate ways for their respective team meetings. Team Russia's always big, having qualified entries for each discipline at the final. It's an important day because three of those disciplines have their second programs which means the first victory ceremony will be held at the end of the day. The men's singles is the last event before it so at least there's plenty of hours in the day before go-time for Yuri.

Since the team meeting is not really about them Yuri and Mila sit in the back of the small conference room at the hotel and space out. At least Yuri does. He tilts his chair back so it's reclining against the wall and inspects the ends of his hair for a good while. When that becomes too mind-numbing he leans towards Mila to see what she's doing with her phone.

"Oh. Ugh. _Gonta_ ," Yuri mutters upon seeing who Mila's chatting with.

"Hey," Mila protests and turns her phone away from his prying eyes. "He's stressed about exams."

"Ugh," Yuri grunts louder which earns him a few looks from the others trying to listen to the actual meeting going on. "You're competing for gold, can he give it a rest?"

"Shut up." Mila pushes him away which makes Yuri almost lose his balance on the chair.

He manages another minute before leaning towards Mila again.

"What?" she hisses.

"Try a quad next season," Yuri says. "I know you've been practising them in the harness."

"No, thanks," she sniffs. "Not risking my neck with that."

"You could probably land it. You're good."

"Probably? Thanks."

"What? I said you were good."

She rolls his eyes but flashes him a smile. "Thanks. Really."

It makes Yuri a little sorry he doesn't say stuff like that more often because she _is_ really good and she's basically his only friend. And friends are supposed to be supportive. "And I mean it," he adds.

Her smile is more curious now but she shakes her head and doesn't say anything. Still, as far as Yuri can tell, she looks happy.

He doesn't have much to do between the meeting and lunch so he loiters around the hotel and checks out a bunch of GP posts on social media. He even likes a few group selfies, one of which he's in the back of. Then Yakov fetches him and Mila and they head out for the lunch which Viktor had set up in some fancy-ass restaurant.

The place is not far but it is very fancy. Yuri feels good about his choice to wear a black shirt with a hot pink and gold tiger on it. Mila is less so.

"I didn't pack for this," she sighs when they go in.

Viktor and Katsuki are already there and stand up to greet them. "You made it!" Viktor says.

Yuri doesn't bother with saying hello, just slumps into the nearest chair. He could've spent this time much more fruitfully on his own. There's a moment of the smallest of talks while everyone settles down.

"So it looks like congratulations are in order," Mila says then.

Both Yuri and Yakov look at her. "Excuse me?" says Yakov.

"Rings," Mila says and gestures at Viktor and Katsuki.

Yuri turns to check and yes, their rings are now on their left hands. "You got married!"

"Ah, no," Katsuki shakes his head, looking mildly chagrined.

"Yes!" Viktor says at the same time, grinning from ear to ear.

Yuri looks at one then the other. "So which is it?" He scowls.

Katsuki's eyes go from Mila to Yakov and then to Yuri. "Well, neither Japan nor Russia recognises our marriage so... no."

"But we had a ceremony, so yes!" Viktor adds triumphantly and takes Katsuki's hand briefly. At this point Yakov clears his throat and moves his silverware around, not looking directly at anyone.

"Who'd you invite?" Yuri asks, ignoring his coach. Not that he wanted to be invited but he can't believe he wasn't invited.

"All the important people," Viktor tells him. "Yuuri's family, Makkachin..."

"You invited your fucking dog but not me?"

Viktor tilts his head again and opens his eyes innocently wide. "I thought you hated me."

"Yeah, but I don't hate _him_!" Yuri points at Katsuki who has the gall to look surprised. "Any more," he adds, slightly upset about the direction of this conversation and how it's just exposing him.

"But Makkachin loves us both and he made a great ringbearer," Viktor deflects.

Katsuki nods in agreement. "Sorry," he mouths at Yuri.

"We were thinking of having another ceremony in St. Petersburg," Viktor adds. "You can be the ringbearer in that one."

"Why don't you fuck right off, Viktor?" Yuri responds, but Yakov clears his throat very loudly and puts his knife down, causing a loud clank that catches them all off guard.

"Are you two done?" he growls. "Stop sniping at each other or you will _both_ need to leave this table until you know how to behave."

They both go silent, but Yuri still glares at Viktor who in turn ignores him.

"Wow," Mila says under hear breath.

"Why don't we order?" Katsuki's English gets worse when he's nervous.

"Does this place serve alcohol?" Yuri mutters and sees Katsuki's horrified face from the corner of his eye.

"Yes!" Viktor says and raises a hand to wave over a waiter. "But not to you, Yurio," and he uses the stupid name on purpose, "because you are underage. It's on me," he adds to everyone. "So order whatever you want."

It turns out the only one who does get any alcohol in the end is Viktor who orders himself a mimosa with strawberries. Yuri looks at the cocktail section only to have Yakov take his menu away. Relative peace reigns until the waiter leaves their vicinity. The restaurant is about half full and the customers seem to be mostly people in suits.

"So, Yuri," Viktor says once he has his drink. "Your short program, technically brilliant, and I wouldn't expect anything less, but... tsk. Have you forgotten everything I taught you about passion?"

"You never actually taught me anything," Yuri says and it tastes bitter in his mouth. "You left."

There's a bit of a pause and Viktor and Katsuki share another look between them as though Yuri wasn't even there and couldn't actually see them doing that.

"I didn't?" Viktor says then, tilting his head one way and then the other, the same way Yuri has seen dogs do when they're trying to figure something out. "Didn't I coach you for a whole summer?"

"That did happen," Mila says. "And you did get a record-breaking short program out of it."

Yuri gives Mila the dirtiest look he can muster. Is she on Viktor's side now? "Only after I chased him down because he forgot about his promise. If I hadn't done that I would've got _nothing_!"

The silence rings with the sound of other people's cutlery connecting with their tableware. Viktor sips his drink.

"Yurio," he says, knowing full well it's annoying. He smiles, a goofy, big smile. "I remember you now and I want to help you become even better than you are now so I accept! I'll be your coach!"

"That's literally the opposite of what I want!" Yuri plants his palms on the table and shoots up from his chair. Since he's already made this gesture the only thing for him is to walk away. He ends up in the corridor with the restrooms, hiding behind a potted plant because there's not that many places to go in a restaurant. After a while he spots Katsuki coming the same way.

"Yuri," he says. At least he has the decency to use the right name. "What's wrong?"

"He's wrong!" Yuri replies, making a stabbing gesture towards their table from behind the ficus.

Katsuki glances in the direction. "I think he's trying to make amends," he says slowly.

"Yeah?" Yuri faces him in a combative manner. "How's that gonna work?"

Katsuki is uncertain as well. "He wants to take responsibility after leaving you both. You and Mr Feltsman."

"It's a little late for that!"

"Ah... Better late than never, right?" Katsuki rubs the back of his head, looking apologetic. "I also think it would be fun to train together... But I made Viktor promise not to bring it up again unless you do. Please come back."

Yuri does return to the table with Katsuki although he's not pleased about it. Yakov glowers at him because he's being ill-mannered but that's just how every day is. Mila looks at him with a face that lets Yuri know in no uncertain terms she finds this hilarious. Their lunches are brought over and there's another somewhat peaceful moment.

"So, Yuri," Viktor says then, having folded his hands under his chin and above his salad. "How are you and Otabek doing?"

Yuri has barely sat down and now shoots up again. "No!" He's abso-fucking-lutely not going to discuss Otabek in a table with Viktor and Yakov.

"Oh, hush," Viktor laughs. "I was just kidding. Sit down."

Yakov grumbles. "Vitya..."

"Oh, I know." Viktor leans back in his chair. "I'm teasing!"

Katsuki gives Yuri another pathetic-apologetic look and Mila looks away, trying to hide her laughter behind a napkin. This whole lunch is such a shitshow. Yuri stabs his chicken pasta with his fork and glares at Viktor, hoping he gets the message.

-

There's plenty of time before the men's free skate event to wish for death. Yuri does so in his hotel room bed. He lies in the middle, spread-eagle and stares at the ceiling. Maybe if he stares hard enough it'll collapse and bury him and all the things he doesn't want to have to talk about ever again.

A loud knock at his door is followed by Mila's voice: "Hey, shit for brains, let's go out."

"Get lost, Babicheva!" Yuri replies.

"Ooh, you used my actual name," she calls back and knocks again. "Get out here or I'm doing this with Altin."

"Hey, Yura," Otabek's voice is a little farther away, but clear as well. The doors must be made of cardboard.

"You call him Yura? That's so cute," Mila says and Yuri jumps out of the bed to go slam the door open.

"What the fuck do you want?" he growls at her. Otabek is standing behind her and makes a little wave at him.

"She's bullying me," he says quietly.

Mila snorts with laughter and Otabek shrugs, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Skaters spend a lot of time in stretchy, comfy clothes that are good for practice. Yuri can't tell if Otabek's making a joke or not.

"Come on," Mila says. "Let's go out. That lunch was _tough_."

"Yeah, I saw. You could've choked on your soup from all the laughing," Yuri replies, feeling a bit prickly.

She grins. "Come on," she repeats and gestures at Otabek with her chin. "I brought your favourite. We're even, right?"

That makes Otabek look a bit sheepish and he shifts on his feet and runs his hand through his hair, but he says nothing. Yuri turns on his heel and goes in to grab his coat and phone. Fuck it. It's still hours until his on-ice practice and even longer until the actual performance.

"Can't go to a bar. I'm underage here and he doesn't even drink," Yuri says and points his thumb at Otabek. Not that any bars would probably even be open that early.

"You remembered," Otabek murmurs.

"You don't drink?" Mila raises her eyebrows as they head to the lift.

"Not really, no," Otabek says. Yuri shares a glance with him as they walk past that particular spot in the corridor.

"Tsk," Mila clicks her tongue. "Definitely not Russian."

"Yeah, fucking lightweight," Yuri huffs.

"I'm being bullied again," Otabek says, and it makes Yuri huff again but this time with laughter.

-

They run around the slushy streets of Vancouver, window shopping and actual shopping when Yuri and Mila spot bright colours, cat prints or glitter. The glitter is mostly for Mila. They tear through a trinket shop and take selfies and Yuri ends up in the possession of a cat ear hat. The best part is how Otabek is wordless when Yuri puts it on and reaches over to give him a pat. Anyone else and Yuri would find it patronising.

"Hey, Yuri, a message for you," Mila says then. Yuri turns to look, a little dazed, and Mila brushes her hand across her chest, the reversible sequins on her top revealing the word 'chill'.

Yuri scowls in an attempt not to smile, but then beckons her over to take another selfie. Otabek gets in the back of the picture wearing a pair of shutter shades. In Yuri’s mind it's the best picture he's ever taken—after the tiger—and he posts it immediately. #squad

They sightsee a little bit although the weather is doesn't permit for much. After getting some hot drinks to go they hang out on some bridge and watch the water and the grey sky. Mila fills the space with light-hearted talk and lots of gossip about their fellow competitors. But she's never mean. Even Otabek gets sucked in.

"I didn't know that," he replies to something Mila's just said about a rinkmate of his as Yuri tunes in from contemplating the steam from his cup of tea.

She laughs a little, leaning her arms on the railing of the bridge. "No, why would you? You're not really a people person."

Otabek shrugs. "Fair enough."

"Wait a minute," says Yuri, hanging onto the railing between the two, and, annoyingly, shorter than both. "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh, just some of your fellow skaters." Mila laughs again, tilting her head back.

"So no one important," Yuri decides.

"Right," she confirms and rolls her eyes at him.

"But do they all really hook up that much?" Yuri continues. He then pulls back a little and squints at Mila. "Do you do that?"

She smiles and leans her cheek on her hand. "Why? Do you think it's wrong?"

"It's just..." Yuri starts then clams up, becoming aware of Otabek leaning in on his other side. "Nothing."

"No, do go on." Mila gestures with her hand. "You were talking about skaters hooking up with other skaters at competitions. It's not something you'd do, is that it?"

"Shut up," Yuri grunts and pulls his new hat deeper over his head and turns to face the view instead. He hears Mila chuckle and Otabek shifts on his feet.

"But yeah," she says then. "It happens a lot. _A lot_ a lot. The Olympics are the worst. Or the best, however you want to see it. Surprised you didn't notice it happening at PyeongChang."

"I had something else on my mind at the time!"

"Or someone else," she mutters.

"I noticed it," Otabek says at the same time. "The hooking up. It makes sense. A lot of young people in peak physical condition living in cramped quarters, high tension, lots of emotional moments, low possibility of seeing the same people again."

"Oh... Yep." Mila nods. "That's it."

"Ha," Yuri says, seeing her surprise at Otabek's sudden insight and willingness to share said insight. He leans towards Otabek, touching their shoulders together for a bit and smiles up at him. Otabek's kept the shutter shades on which somehow makes his laconic manner even funnier.

Once the bridge and the grey scenery lose their charm the three of them slowly head back. Yuri walks in the middle and takes the opportunity to jump into puddles of slush to splash both his unsuspecting companions. It's worth the cost of wet feet and Mila berating him for being childish.

"You know, one thing's been bothering me for ages," Mila says after Yuri is restrained by Otabek holding onto his hand again. "Where did you get the motorbike in Barcelona?" She peers at Otabek past Yuri.

Yuri also turns to look at Otabek. He's never thought about that much but is interested in the answer anyway.

"Borrowed it," Otabek replies.

"As in... stole it?" Mila's eyebrows have shot up.

Otabek's face registers some concern. "No. A friend lent it to me to get around," he clarifies.

"Ohh, a friend." Mila nods.

Otabek stares at her. "Yes, a friend. A rinkmate."

Yuri's heard enough at that point. Otabek's been all around the world at different training camps so it makes sense he knows a lot of people everywhere. "Who cares!" he declares. "I don't care if Beka had fucking stolen it."

Mila makes a thoughtful sound. "And Yuri told me you had two helmets, too."

"Oh my God," Yuri sighs.

"Were you following Yuri around so you could rescue him? Or just casually happened by and asked if he wanted a ride?" Mila prods. "I just wanna know. It's been bugging me for years."

"You don't have to say anything," Yuri coaches Otabek.

"No, I know. It's okay," he replies and then looks over Yuri at Mila. "I wasn't following Yuri around, but I'm glad I came across him when I did. The two helmets..." He shrugs. "I don't know. I didn't ask why there were two."

"Uh huh, sure. All right," Mila huffs. "You're so decent. How the hell can you like a brat like Yuri?" she asks then.

"Hey!" Yuri stops in his tracks. "Fucking uncalled for."

Otabek says nothing at first, just looks at Yuri and smiles ever so faintly with his stupid shades on. "What's not to like?" he says then, completely unphased by Mila's questioning.

Yuri takes a heartbeat before bouncing forward and giving Mila a sneer. "What's not to like," he repeats Otabek's words smugly.

"Okay," Mila laughs. She catches Yuri's eye and smirks at him as they get back to the hotel and Yuri turns away quickly, very well aware that his face is red from cold and happiness.

-

"I can't stay."

"I know."

"You know, I can't stay."

"I _know_."

They're on borrowed time. Borrowed from their precious on-ice practice minutes and from their coaches. Their coats are still on but undone and pushed aside. Yuri's hands are lost in the territory between Otabek's low-slung sweatpants and displaced t-shirt. He's pressed Otabek against the wall and Otabek has a handful of his hair in his fist resting against the base of Yuri's skull. His other hand is splayed on Yuri's jaw, but when Yuri pushes harder against him he turns his mouth away.

"I can't stay," Otabek repeats. For the third time.

"Yeah, yeah." Yuri nudges his head under Otabek's chin and feels around his hips until Otabek actually pushes him away.

"I can't stay because I can't have my legs shaking when I get on ice."

"Your legs are shaking?" Just what kind of an effect was Yuri having on him?

"Not yet, but they get wobbly after I orgasm. So I can't do this now."

"Got it," Yuri mumbles. He hadn't thought that far but it makes awful sense. "Shit," he says and detaches from Otabek.

They're stood barely inside Yuri's room, having returned from their outing with Mila a moment ago. Yuri pushes his hair back with both hands, looking away. Otabek is much in the same way and pulls his shirt down, both of them trying to find some sort of distraction.

"Okay," Otabek murmurs. "See you at practice, Yura."

"Oh, just get out," Yuri says and goes to open the door.

But before Otabek leaves he presses something into Yuri's hand. "This is for you," he says. He rolls Yuri's fingers over the small, hard thing and heads to the elevator.

Yuri closes the door and slowly opens his hand. It's a little white cat charm that jingles very softly in his grasp. It has a loop of cord attached, meant to be paired with a mobile phone. It's adorable and he loves it.

-

Yuri is late to practice. He barely has the time to warm up properly before hitting the ice and he hasn't eaten since lunch, but he's riding a high. Yakov is unimpressed. He sees Viktor on the sidelines, too, but this time it makes him focus harder. Otabek slides by and nods and Yuri's heart feels so big it barely fits in his chest.

"I'll nail it," he tells Yakov afterwards. "The free skate."

"I see," Yakov grumbles and Yuri sticks out his chin in a challenge to his coach.

" _I'll nail it_ ," he repeats. He knows he can. He knows he _will_.

"I got it," Yakov says. The look he gives Yuri from under his full brows is troubled but he says nothing more.

The locker room is both noisy and quiet at the same time. Words are spoken, equipment is being packed, but at the same time nothing of importance is said because everyone is concentrating on their own performance. Yuri sits on a bench for a while, watching everyone from the depths of his hood, earbuds on and blasting music. The composition of the people qualified for the GPF hasn't changed that much over the years he's been in the senior division. He's no longer the youngest, but most of the same old people are there.

He accidentally leaves around the same time as Katsuki who says, "Good luck," to him in Russian. On the way out Viktor joins Katsuki and glances at Yuri who's a few steps behind, but says nothing, just winks. Yuri scowls at him but only half-heartedly because who the fuck winks unironically?

It strikes him then, the familiarity of the situation. Not because he's at a competition which is all he's done during his life, but because he followed these two fuckfaces out of Hasetsu's Ice Castle almost every day for nearly two months. He even feels the same: annoyed, perplexed and determined in equal measures.

He stops in the lobby of the rink to watch Viktor and Katsuki walk out with their shoulders touching. Even their backs look happy. Yuri doesn't know how that's possible, but there it is.

"Yuri." Yakov's voice distracts him from further analysis. "Let's go eat."

Yuri isn't surprised his coach knows he's famished so he nods. He can tell Yakov disapproves his lack of meal discipline, but the disapproval rate goes down after they've both been fed.

"There's something I want to say," Yakov says suddenly while drinking his after meal coffee.

"Yeah?" Yuri doesn't look up from his phone, sitting sideways on his chair.

"I've been following Katsuki's progress ever since Viktor left to coach him," Yakov continues.

Yuri grunts the bare minimum of a response and still doesn't look up.

"He has gotten to the point where he skates almost as well as Viktor did. In fact," Yakov raises a finger to fore-silence all of Yuri's objections, "he skates _like_ Viktor. I coached Viktor for over ten years so I can tell. The quad flip he does is near identical."

Yuri has let his phone fall down a little and eyes Yakov from under his brows. "So?"

"He has made incredible progress under Viktor."

Yuri snorts. "Under Viktor, yeah."

"Yuri." Yakov disapproves his innuendo with a grumble. "Obviously it says a lot about Katsuki's potential to make such progress even with an inexperienced coach like Viktor."

"What are you getting at, old man?" Yuri has a terrible feeling he knows where this is going and just wants to get it over with.

Yakov's brows are furrowed and the look he gives Yuri is piercing. "You've not reached your full potential, but your progress has halted."

Yuri sits up properly out of sheer discomfort.

"And I wonder if that's a reflection on you... Or me."

It's even more uncomfortable than Yuri had ever imagined anything could be. "What do you mean?" he asks although he doesn't want to know the answer.

Yakov pushes away his empty coffee cup and runs his hand across his balding head. "I have made every attempt to foster your progress over the years and I'm proud of you and everything you've achieved," he says.

Yuri winces.

"But now I wonder if you wouldn't be better served by... a different approach. Maybe consider finding out if Vitya-" he clears his throat. "If Viktor could nourish your creativity and passion better than I can."

"Are- are you resigning as my coach?" Yuri's voice tends to rise when he's under stress and it does so now.

"No, no, of course not." Yakov holds out a reassuring hand. "It's entirely up to you, but I do want you to consider your options carefully. That's all I need from you."

Yuri nods because he doesn't know what to say. Out of everyone in his life he expected Yakov would be the last one to speak on behalf of Viktor's ridiculous idea. Except that it seems the idea is becoming less ridiculous by the day, at least to everyone else than Yuri.

But it forces him to think back to Japan. Hasetsu had been nice. The whole experience, really. Katsuki's family too. Would being coached by Viktor mean he could go back there?

Fuck. Most importantly, was fucking Viktor of all people right about him?

-

Despite the sudden onslaught of existential dread Yuri nails the free skate. A few others do, too. It's not much of a surprise considering the skill level to be in the invitational. Everyone does well because everyone is that good. But that's the best part, inching away from the rest, fighting for a lead of few points.

Because of his lacklustre short program he comes second, losing to Katsuki of all people by those few critical points. He's not surprised. JJ is third, much to the excitement of his home country audience. He gets the biggest cheers. Yuri lives a moment of nightmare déjà vu on the podium during the victory ceremony.

 _'Funny,'_ says Mila's DM which he reads afterwards. _'Almost the same result as your senior debut.'_

It hadn't escaped Yuri's notice. The only difference had been he'd won that year. He looks at his silver medal and doesn't know what to feel about it. It's been a while since he's received one.

 _'I'm beginning to think you should take Viktor up on his offer,'_ Mila's next message reads, which Yuri reads leaving the locker room.

 _'I know you've probably thrown the phone away at this point, but you should really think about it,'_ she continues. _'I mean_ really _really think about it.'_

Yuri hasn't thrown his phone away. He keeps reading the last message over and over again. He's sunk to the floor of a narrow corridor, hood up and knees against his chest, holding his phone right in front of his face. Some people walk by but he doesn't really pay attention until a familiar pair of legs stops right by him.

"Hey," Otabek says. He sits next to Yuri and he smells of hair gel.

"I didn't make it," Yuri says, feeling hollow. "Dropped the ball. Broke my consecutive streak."

Otabek says nothing for a long while. Some more people pass by. It's a corridor to access the lobby from the locker rooms so there's some traffic. The overhead lights are dead white.

"Yeah," Otabek says then.

"How the fuck did I let this happen?" Yuri mutters and turns his phone around in his hands. The little cat charm attached to it chimes gently each rotation. "Fucking Katsudon." He sighs. "I mean, he did amazing, but still, fuck him."

Otabek is quiet again but Yuri can hear and feel him turn to look at him.

"All right! Fine!" he says a little louder. "I take it back. Fuck me, not Katsuki." It takes a moment and a little huff from Otabek for Yuri to realise what he's said. He groans. "You know what I mean. I can't blame him for my mistakes."

"No, you can't," Otabek agrees. The tone of his voice makes Yuri turn to look at him and finds him half smiling. His hair looks ridiculous, gelled so stiff it hasn't moved at all despite all the high-velocity jumps. And Otabek does go for jumps like a beast, high and fast. How the fuck did he not place higher? He'd got first and second in the GP qualifiers.

"Are you throwing?" Yuri asks, squinting at him suspiciously.

Otabek shakes his head gently. His hair rasps against the wall. "Are you?"

"Fuck no!" Yuri responds instantly, shocked that Otabek would even ask that. "Fuck no," he repeats and starts getting up, too incensed to stay put. Sure, he's disappointed as hell, but it's only the halfpoint of the season. He's not going to throw. The spring season has the big two, Europeans and fucking Worlds.

Otabek gets up too. "Didn't think so," he says and rolls his shoulders. "I think people are waiting to see you in the lobby."

"Yeah?" Yuri looks up at him. "People or press? Or fans?"

"Probably all three." Otabek isn't very comforting.

"I got _second_ ," Yuri says, the word catching in his throat. "It's _bullshit_." He shoulders his bag and looks at Otabek, sighing. "Let's go."

-

As soon as Yuri's foot hits the floor of his hotel room he drops his bag and gets out his phone. He's still wearing a tracksuit, his hair's still in its stiff French braid and there's glitter on his face. It's late and he's had a very long day filled with strange and unexpected ups and downs. He still digs out his phone to message Otabek.

 _'Come over,'_ he types.

Yakov's probably asleep, but even if he isn't Yuri doesn't care anymore. There's nothing that Otabek could distract him from now. He's not even doing the exhibition, that honour's all Katsuki and the host picks'. He gets out of the tracksuit for a shower although it's a losing battle against glitter. At least he can get rid of the eyeliner.

When there's a knock on his door he realises that he hadn't even considered Otabek might not want to come to his room. He rushes to open the door to see a damp Otabek looking puzzled. Yuri grabs his hand and pulls him in.

"Stay tonight," he says.

Otabek tilts his head towards the wall Yuri's room shares with Yakov's.

"I don't care about that," Yuri snaps. Then, softer: "Glad you came."

Otabek nods and sort of smiles. Or relaxes his face. It's subtle. He's so fucking hot it's making Yuri a little annoyed because he's so tired. So he kisses him. Otabek smells freshly washed and his hair's not gel-filled any more. When Yuri pulls back to look at him again he has glitter on his cheeks too, rubbed off of Yuri. It makes Yuri smile which Otabek seems to take as an invitation to pick him up and toss him on the bed.

"The fuck, Altin?" Yuri bounces right back up.

"Shh." Otabek gestures at the the shared wall and then pulls off his shirt. Yuri very nearly swallows his tongue.

"Don't shh me," he still insists, if a little choked.

Otabek raises his eyebrows and holds out his arms. "Yeah? Come at me then," he says.

Skaters naturally develop explosive jump force so Yuri clears the distance from standstill and Otabek catches him with hardly any effort.

Otabek pulls Yuri's legs up around his middle and grabbing his ass. "Nice," he says.

They tumble on the bed and there's a scuffle until Yuri's on top. "What now, huh?" he demands and Otabek just pulls him down. They kiss and kiss, and Yuri feels Otabek's fingers in his hair.

"I like your hair," Otabek whispers. "Can I undo it?"

Yuri shrugs and sits up, straddling Otabek who follows him up and starts taking Yuri's braid apart. At first Yuri feels a bit apprehensive for whatever reason, but when Otabek runs his nails gently against his scalp he exhales the tension. He drapes his arms around Otabek's shoulders and strokes the shaved sides of his head. He likes the tickly feel of it.

"Is this what you came here to do?" Yuri finally asks. Although if it was he would be okay with it.

"Part of it." Otabek slowly clenches a fistful of Yuri's hair and leans in to lick his mouth open.

The footboard of the bed stops them rolling right off a moment later, but Yuri does slam his shoulder into it, which makes their teeth clank together. Otabek makes a noise of concern but Yuri stops that shit in its tracks by shoving his hand down Otabek's sweatpants.

"Hey," Otabek still manages to say, but for the first time Yuri's seeing him utterly flustered. He cackles and forgets his sore shoulder.

"Hey, Beka," he says with a grin and squeezes Otabek's dick.

Otabek is still red in the face but he reels his expression back in and slides his hand into Yuri's pants. "Hey, Yura," he responds.

Yuri cackles again, breathless now, and so, so hard.

Between all the kissing and grabbing they lose the rest of their clothes. Yuri feels like a chicken trying to swim, but when he's finally naked he forgets about feeling awkward because of the way Otabek's staring at him. The fierce stare is about a thousand times more so in real life than through Snapchat.

Yuri gets off mid-kiss just from the friction of pressing against Otabek's thigh. He bites Otabek's lip in surprise, which makes Otabek jerk away and say "ow" under his breath. Yuri barely notices and then they both pause to feel the surge of wetness between them.

They kiss while Yuri's still shuddering. He feels between them with his hand and grasps Otabek again. It only takes a little for him to come too and he does it with the same kind of stoicism with which he does almost everything. Lady Gaga's Poker Face plays in Yuri's muddled and satiated brain as he thumbs the tip and feels the cum spurt out.

Very soon afterwards Yuri rolls over and casts about for his phone. He finds it under a pillow and then squirms back next to Otabek. He holds up the phone with one hand, the other wet one he uses to make a victory signs up at the phone as he takes a row of selfies of the two of them in their post-frottage glow.

"I'm gonna go with Viktor," he blurts out then.

Otabek rolls onto his side and reaches over to touch Yuri's cheek which effectively makes Yuri look at him. His messy-haired and half-lidded look is enough to tell Yuri they're going to go again pretty soon. But there's also a questioning shape to his mouth.

"I'm gonna do it," Yuri says, voice softer.

Otabek nods and strokes a finger along Yuri's jawline. Yuri doesn't know if he feels relieved because of the recent orgasm or because he's made his decision, but some sort of tension he hadn't noticed before is gone. It leaves him boneless.

-

The notification sound of his phone wakes Yuri the next morning. He's used to waking up in beds that aren't his, but this time he's disoriented. He sits up and realises he had gone to sleep with his head at the wrong end. He also has to climb over a snoozing Otabek to find his phone.

 _'Okay, breakfast is over in 15 and coach is super grumpy. Where are you?'_ reads the message, from Mila.

Yuri considers not replying, but then snaps a picture of himself and the still-sleeping Otabek and sends it to Mila.

 _'Got it,'_ she responds immediately. _'But better be there for my free skate.'_

Yuri looks at Otabek again, then replies with a 😎. He snuggles up to take more pictures of them both. Those are just for him because he's boarding a plane back to Russia in two days and he isn't going to be anywhere near Otabek for another three months.

"Are you doing it again?" Otabek mumbles, turning his face into the pillow.

"What?"

"Taking pictures of me."

"Oh yeah," Yuri huffs.

Otabek sighs and pulls the pillow over his head.

Yuri flops on the pillow and reaches down to palm Otabek's ass. "Hey, Altin," he says. "I really like you."

"Great," Otabek says, very muffled.

"Fuck you," Yuri responds out of habit. "But I'm not gonna hold you to anything."

Otabek is quiet at first, then digs himself out from under the pillow to look at Yuri. "Okay," he says then. His voice is a shade lower than normal and there's a wedge between his brows.

"What's that face?"

Otabek shakes his head and sits up, running a hand through his hair. Yuri sits up too.

"What the fuck, Beka?" he says.

"No, what the fuck, Yuri," Otabek responds in a tone that Yuri's never heard from him before. "You're not gonna hold me to anything?"

"Well, I'm not!" Yuri flips his goddamn hair out of his face to glare at Otabek. "Because most of the time you're not there, or I'm not there, and I'm sure as fuck not gonna quit skating."

Otabek rolls himself around to look at Yuri. "I would never ask you to."

"I know! Ugh. And I would never ask _you_ to. That's not what this is about."

"Isn't it?"

"No," Yuri groans and tilts himself back on the bed. "Which part of 'I really like you' went over your fucking head?"

"The part that came after," Otabek mutters, sitting hunched on the edge of the bed.

"What? You _wanna_ be in a long distance thing where you can't get any on the side?"

Otabek takes a deep breath. "Yeah, actually. I'm okay with that."

Yuri sits himself up again, holding his hair back with a hand. "Really? Why?"

"I guess I really like you too."

"I knew that," Yuri says although he's just been completely disarmed. He lets go of his hair and it falls over his face. The next hand to push it back is Otabek's.

"Breakfast's over so we might as well stay a little longer," he says. Yuri's agreement is exuberant.

-

They get a very late start to the day but since neither of them has any competing to do any more it doesn't really matter. After catching up on months of long distance flirting and semi-nudes they eventually get to the point where they have a piece of clothing or two on. Yuri is impatient with his newly washed hair and tears through it with a brush only to have Otabek take the brush away.

"Let me," he says and points Yuri to the bed.

"Thinking of a career change?" Yuri asks flippantly and sits cross-legged.

Otabek huffs softly and leans down to nuzzle at Yuri's ear. "I like it, remember?" he whispers before running his fingers carefully through the long, blond strands.

Yuri mutters a heavy "fuck" under his breath, affected by both the whisper and the gentle untangling of his hair. He has to concentrate on studying his own feet in an effort to keep from being completely spellbound.

They make it to the rink barely in time for the ladies' free skate event. Yuri feels he owes it to Mila to be there, which is the only reason he can bear to exchange the privacy of his hotel room to the audience at the sports centre. There's even a small contingent of Yuri's Angels that he spots and automatically ducks behind the nearest thing to avoid them.

Mila, having placed well during her short program, is the second to get on ice and Yuri leans on the back of the seat in front of himself with his arms to watch. Otabek sits next to him, leaning in the opposite direction.

As Mila lands a beautiful Lutz Otabek speaks up: "She could bench press you."

"Oh yeah, for sure," Yuri says. It's an accurate assessment of both Mila's attitude and strength. He feels Otabek's hand on the small of his back, discreetly under his jacket. It's difficult to keep his eyes on the performance at that point.

At least it's over soon as well as a hugely successful free skate. Yuri jumps up to cheer and tries to throw popcorn which he'd snuck in on the ice, but only manages to rain it onto the seats below.

"Shit," he says and climbs over Otabek's legs towards the aisle. "Let's go. I don't wanna clean that up."

It's easy to escape in the ebb and flow of people at the rink. The seats are full and empty at intervals. Yuri can't fathom why ice resurfacing is such a popular pastime to watch, but it pulls a crowd almost the same as the actual skating. A little bit unfair.

Even though they don't need to be at the rink they stay there. Just not in the seats. Part of it is because skating rinks are the only playgrounds Yuri knows and they make him happy, especially during a competition. And he wants to stay until the scores for the ladies' free skate have all come in; he's sure Mila's going on the podium, one spot or the other.

They make it down to rink level and hang around the skaters' entrance until Yuri can flag Mila down. "Hey, grandma!" he calls out and waves.

She laughs and waves back, then throws on her Russia jacket and stomps the blade covers on properly before coming over. "How'd you like that?" she asks.

"Nailed it," Yuri says.

She laughs again. "Looks like I'm not the only one who nailed something." She brings her phone out of the jacket's pocket and flashes the snap Yuri had sent in the morning.

Otabek takes one look, then turns to Yuri. He doesn't say anything, only stares.

"Thanks a lot," Yuri mutters and scowls at Mila. But it isn't a very convincing scowl because there's a smug grin under it, and he knows it's visible through the cracks.

"No problem," Mila says brightly. "Come on, I'm exhausted. I wanna sit."

It the better part of the next hour for the ladies' singles to finish, but by the end of it Mila is confirmed as the winner. Yuri is both happy and left considering his own suboptimal performance, and the differences between it and Mila's routine. It's not that hers is so much better, it's just that she'd enjoyed it vastly more.

-

The final day of the competition is more of a holiday for Yuri. He's not doing the exhibition this time so he only has to show up to watch others, and since he's not doing it he skips the last team meeting. It's more of a convention than a necessity anyway, and Yuri has better things to do.

If rinks and competitions and hotels and airports are largely the same everywhere then so are cities when it comes to what they contain. It's the same things because people are the same. Except in some parts of the world the dairy products are better and Yuri has promised his grandfather to bring back as much cheese as he can.

"Five kilograms," Otabek says and puts his phone away.

"Cheese?"

They are stood in a deli which Yuri has deemed fancy enough for good cheese purchases. He's looking around what seem like endless shelves of dairy products.

"Yes, you can bring five kilos of cheese back to Russia," Otabek confirms.

"Right." Yuri is hesitant, but picks up a basket to start the shopping.

Fortunately the list of people Yuri considers important enough to bring souvenirs to is exactly one person deep. He takes a selfie with the mountain of cheese and Otabek after they've dragged it all back to the hotel and sends it to his grandfather as a preview.

Then there is time for a clothes-off diversion before the exhibition starts.

-

The beginning of the gala dinner is always slow compared to the exhibition that precedes it. The noise and cheer of the rink transforms into a quiet dinner with a speech or two from the hosts and such. The real fun at the gala doesn't start until after enough food and drink has been consumed to remind everyone that it's a party. At least this is Yuri's interpretation of it.

For the dining part he obviously sits with the rest of Team Russia, but for the mingling part he looks for Otabek's company. But Yakov stops him.

"It's good to see you feeling better," he says.

Yuri nods, but doesn't explain why that might be. Besides, this year he is finally allowed to drink the alcoholic drinks at the gala.

"Have you given thought to..?" Yakov doesn't finish, but nods towards Viktor who is still, and probably always will be, the centre of attention for many people at any party.

Yuri realises he hasn't mentioned his decision to anyone except Otabek. He also realises Otabek probably hadn't known what he'd been talking about at the time. "Yeah," he says.

"And?" Yakov prompts

"I'll try it out," Yuri continues, not looking at his future ex-coach.

Yakov puts his hand on Yuri's shoulder which makes him look up. "Good," Yakov grumbles although the usual stern look on his face is cracking a bit. "If you ever want to come back," he holds up a finger to forestall Yuri's comments. "You'll always have a place with me."

Yuri closes his mouth and studies Yakov for a long moment. He's never known who his father is and honestly doubts if even his mother knows, but Yakov has played that role for a long time. It makes Yuri empty his glass of sparkly wine in one go to fight away the strange burn in his eyes.

"Thanks," he says shortly. "Thank you," he repeats and really means it.

Yakov squeezes his shoulder and nods. "You should tell Viktor."

"Oh." Yuri feels unbalanced when Yakov pulls his hand away and gives him a little push towards the vortex of entertainment that's centred on Viktor. Yakov nods again and backs away, leaving Yuri to take a step forward on his own. He only manages the one step before he turns sharply to find more to drink.

What he finds at the bar is Mila, sitting primly on a bar stool with a colourful drink in her hands which she consumes through a swirly straw. Her dress is black and very short, but surprisingly conservative on top. Yuri leans on the bar next to her because there's no free seats and loosens his tie.

"Looks serious," Mila comments and has a sip of her drink. The straw makes the action loud and unladylike.

"Yeah, it's strangling me," Yuri says.

"Yeah, I meant whatever coach told you, not your tie," she sighs. "Are you okay?"

Yuri takes a moment to think about it. The music gets louder and there's a bit of a cheer as several people take to the dance floor. Colourful lights come on and the mood shifts towards a very bad disco instead of a dinner. Viktor is trying to pull Katsuki to the dance floor but he resists.

"I need to talk to Viktor," Yuri says.

"Not what I asked," Mila mutters.

"He's going to be my new coach," Yuri continues, ignoring her.

Mila eyes him up and down and plays with her straw. "For what it's worth, I think you're making the right decision."

Yuri returns her gaze and she smiles a little. "Great," Yuri says. "Thanks."

She reaches over and pats him on the head. "You should go talk to him, but afterwards I think you owe me a dance."

Yuri rolls his eyes and grabs a new glass of sparkly wine. He pushes off the bar and winds his way back between the tables set out and the people congregating into groups to talk and laugh. He doesn't go towards Viktor but detours through to the Team Kazakh table. Otabek is still sitting down with Alina next to him.

Otabek waves Yuri over when he spots him. "Hey," he says. "You remember-"

"Yeah, can't forget," Yuri interrupts him and his gesture towards Alina.

"Glad to have made an impression," she smirks. "This is Arthur. My partner," she continues and turns to grasp the arm of a light-haired man next to her.

Yuri greets the man with a distracted nod, then moves on, knowing Otabek is behind him. He pauses again a few tables later, eyes on the dancefloor, and finishes his drink.

"You okay?" Otabek leans in close to Yuri's ear to speak because there's more noise the closer to the dancing they get.

"Why's everyone asking me that?" Yuri huffs and puts his glass down on the nearest flat surface.

"Maybe because you look like you're at a funeral." Otabek reaches over and touches Yuri's tie to straighten it. Otabek has no tie, just a shirt casually unbuttoned at the top under his jacket.

"I have to talk to Viktor," Yuri explains and glances towards the dancefloor again. Viktor's right there, dancing with Katsuki who's red in the face with some sort of Japanese embarrassment.

Otabek follows his gaze. "I know you love him."

"Wow," Yuri says instantly. "That was zero to bullshit in two seconds."

"Maybe it's more correct to say you admire him," Otabek adjusts his statement. He doesn't sound bothered at all, which is weird because Yuri feels very bothered. "It's okay to have heroes."

Yuri says nothing for a long while. "What if your heroes are shit?" he asks then, turning so he can see Otabek instead.

"Can he disappoint you any more than he already has?" Otabek counters.

"You know," Yuri says. "He probably can't." It's an encouraging thing to realise. Yuri takes Otabek's hand quickly. "Thanks, Beka."

Otabek pushes him away gently, towards the dancefloor. The music has changed and Katsuki is storming off back to their table which puts him in Yuri's path.

"Yuri!" he says in surprise after almost bowling Yuri over.

"Yuuri," Yuri says rather calmly.

There's first an uncertain flash of worry on Katsuki's face, which then breaks into a hesitant smile. "You used my name," he says.

"Katsuki's also your name, so technically I've never _not_ used your name," Yuri replies and gulps down his drink.

"But you used to call me Katsudon which is not my name," Katsuki reminds him gently.

It's also technically right, but Yuri's not about to give it to him. "After I called you that it became your name!" he snaps.

"All right, _Yurio_ ," Katsuki says, still gentle, but slightly less so. Then he looks over his shoulder at Viktor who has been halted by the many people who want to have a word with him or bask in his glory. "Oh," he says then. "Were you going to talk to Viktor?"

Yuri makes a face, but nods.

"Are you going to be nice, still?" Katsuki's face turns towards worry again. "He really wants this, too."

Yuri scowls harder and pushes Katsuki out of the way. "Why's everyone worrying about _him_?" he growls and heads on.

Yuri pushes through the people around Viktor to get to the front. He knows who some of the people are, because they’re all skaters, but ignores all of them.

"Can we talk?" he asks, grasping Viktor’s arm. "Alone?"

Viktor glances down at Yuri’s hand, then smiles. "Any time." He follows Yuri as though it was his choice to do so and not because Yuri is dragging him aside. There's really nowhere private but at least they're away from the worst concentration of people.

"Okay, so," Yuri starts. He avoids looking Viktor in the eye.

"You've decided to accept? Wonderful!" Viktor cuts in and grabs Yuri's shoulders. "I knew you would."

"Get off," Yuri growls. "But yeah."

Viktor lets go and beams at him and honest to God Yuri does not know anyone else who can actually _beam_. Fucking Viktor. "You'll be a wonderful ringbearer!"

Yuri is stunned. "Listen here, you idiot," he starts.

"We could do the second ceremony next summer. St. Petersburg can be so beautiful in the summer," Viktor interrupts him dreamily.

Yuri can barely even remember there is a city outside his home rink. "Viktor!" he says loudly to snap him out of it. Only Viktor would make something difficult even more difficult by being an absolute coat hanger. "I want you to coach me!"

Viktor actually stops daydreaming and his face registers confusion for a while. "Pardon?"

Yuri, brimming with frustrated energy, shoves him lightly. "It was your idea!"

But the smile on Viktor's face let's Yuri know he's only teasing. "I know, kitten," he says softly. Before Yuri can react Viktor takes his face between his hands and kisses him on the forehead.

Yuri jerks back and rubs at his forehead. "What the fuck?"

"I'm just very glad you've accepted." Viktor crosses one arm across his chest and holds the other bent so he can rest his cheek on his hand as he glances over at the others. "Yuuri will be, too."

"Oh my God, why are you like this," Yuri scowls, but takes stock of the man he's looked up to so much all those years. He's always thought Viktor talented but ridiculous. Too ridiculous to consider, too free with his charm, too good to quit, which he'd done anyway, despite Yuri trying to grow up so fast he could share the ice with him.

"If you fuck this up," Yuri starts and pokes Viktor in the arm. "I will-"

"Do you know why I call you kitten?" Viktor interrupts him. He tilts his head and smiles at Yuri again, eyes crinkling up with genuine pleasure.

"No, and I wish you'd stop."

"Because you're small and cute," Viktor says, then reaches over and pats Yuri's head fondly. "And fearless."

Yuri knows he should be furious about the pat on the head but at the same time fearless rings over and over in his head, like a cloud of butterflies taking flight. _Fucking Viktor._

-

When it gets so hot in the room that taking off his jacket doesn't help Yuri heads outside. There is a patio or a porch of some sort that connects through many sets of double doors. The December temperature out there is hardly noticeable to him. He stands out there clutching a half-drunk glass of sparkly wine and stares into the dark.

"Yura," he hears from behind, but doesn't turn. It's Otabek, his shutter shades pushed up onto his head. "Yura," he repeats and touches Yuri's arm. "Why are you crying?" he asks then, with mild alarm.

"His name was Krasivyi," Yuri says, voice only a little shaky. He tries to wipe away the tears which he hadn't even noticed before. He turns to look at Otabek and his eyes are filled again with new tears. "But they called him Kitten!" he howls then and buries his face in Otabek's lapel.

Otabek puts a disconcerted arm around Yuri and pats his back gently. "Okay," he says. "It's okay. Who are you talking about?"

Yuri sobs, spilling sparkly wine from his cup. "The fucking tiger!" he manages to say between wet gulps air.

Otabek continues to rub Yuri's back in little circles. "You're so drunk," he whispers and kisses Yuri's hair. "So fucking drunk."

Yuri sniffles and wipes eyes on Otabek's shirt, not really listening to him, but comforted that he's there. "Kitten was so handsome and good," he mumbles. His memory is of a giant, cuddly cat. A cat so good he can't bear it. It makes his heart ache and his chest feel like it's on fire.

Otabek takes his glass away and puts it on the porch railing, then tilts Yuri's face up and wipes away some of the tears. "I'm sure he was," he says. "Cats are good."

Yuri nods, more tears pouring out of his eyes, making his lashes sticky. "Hey," Yuri says, feeling as raw as his voice sounds. "Worlds isn't until end of March."

Otabek acknowledges this with a nod.

"And we're not gonna meet until then."

Otabek nods again, slower. He's not happy about it either.

"So can you fucking finally send me a dick pic to help me get over there?"


End file.
